


Convergence

by XCVG



Category: RWBY
Genre: Earth, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 95,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XCVG/pseuds/XCVG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should have been impossible- they weren't real- but it's happened. They're here on Earth, and more are coming. Nobody knows for sure what will happen, but one thing is certain: the world will never be the same. The long-awaited sequel to Emergence, which hasn't been posted here yet but some of you may be familiar with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Dawn's Early Light

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here! I've had the ideas for Convergence putting themselves together in my head since I started writing Emergence, and I'm really excited to finally be putting them down on proverbial paper.
> 
> Some of you are probably coming to this story from Emergence and/or Aliens Among Us, and you're well aware of what's going on. I'm hoping, however, some of you are new to this series.
> 
> Emergence is an inverted self-insert. Instead of our heroes ending up in a world of fiction, our fictional heroes have ended up in our world. It was written with realism as a priority- our heroes are average college students way over their heads and the real world does not work like a game.
> 
> Aliens Among Us is an interquel, meant to be a sort of subversion of a high school AU. Ruby and her team are going to high school on Earth, trying to be normal students and dealing with school, love, and the fact that they're from another world that shouldn't exist and they're not quite human.
> 
> There are a few others that are more loosely connected. Tabula Rasa is about a New York cop with a strange and troubled past. Those You Leave Behind follows JNPR and others back on Remnant after RWBY's disappearance. The Asides are drabbles, oneshots, and omake connected to the main story.
> 
> I highly recommend you read Emergence, Aliens Among Us, and all the related stories, of course, but you don't have to read them to enjoy this story. I've written the prologue with that in mind.
> 
> All the previous stories are available on FFn and on Spacebattles. I'm not sure. There's also a TVTropes page; searching for “RWBY Emergence TVTropes” is usually pretty reliable.
> 
> The prologue and first chapter are combined into one entry.

  
**Prologue: All Roads**

**_Sam Georgeas_ **

It started on a dark and rainy night.

Okay, it wasn't that dark, and it wasn't that rainy. But it was a night. It was a hell of a night, even before it went off the rails.

It was the last weekend before going back to school for me any my friends- except for Ben, who just kept working after graduation. We spent it out at the bar like any normal college student would. It was a fun night, but when we went home it all went nuts.

We met Ruby Rose on the way back to the SkyTrain station. It wasn't the booze, it wasn't any drugs, and she wasn't a cosplayer. That was, to put it lightly, absolutely out of context batshit insane.

I didn't even know what the hell RWBY is. All I saw was some borderline-jailbait weeb, then the wild theories started flying. Then she proved the craziest ones right.

We spent the next few months searching for the rest and getting them together. Which would be a lot easier if they hadn't been scattered across the world. Donetsk. Tokyo. Raqqa. Sometimes it got pretty sketchy. We went head first into danger, broke the law more times than I could count. We got help, sometimes expected and sometimes not. It was fucked up in every sense of the word.

Then some guys in black suits showed up and it wasn't our problem anymore. Not that we could just forget everything that happened. Doing what we did changes you in ways I didn't even realize. Going back to regular life like nothing happened was weird to say the least.

But this isn't my story. This is their story.

**_Harold Iverson_ **

The world of intelligence is a strange one by all accounts, but this puts the strangest stories floating through the halls of CSIS to shame.

The first attempt to interact with the aliens ended in disaster. It was only after the Americans formed Task Force Gemstone with us and the British that we managed to sort things out. After that, we did the most mundane and predictable thing possible- sent them to school under false identities. Altruism? Hardly. We wanted them on our side. And we simply didn't know what else to do.

It was a completely out of context problem. This was not what we ordinarily dealt with- nor the military, nor law enforcement, nor the politicians calling the shots. Contrary to popular belief, there was no super secret section of the government that dealt with extraterrestrials- until now.

What was the correct response to a situation like this? There was certainly no book on it- well, nothing outside the realm of fiction. All we could do is guess and hope we guessed right. We planned and prepared, but what were we really preparing for?

Our biggest concern, however, was not the four aliens running around in Vancouver. It was who might be coming next that kept us awake at night. We had no idea if we'd be ready for them or not.

How could we?

**_Rosalind Drake_ **

I wasn't always a New York cop.

I'm in my thirties or forties, but I only remember the last ten years or so. The last decent memory I have is waking up in Mount Sinai feeling like I'd just been hit by a bus. Well, they couldn't even tell me that. Just that I'd beat to hell but was healing well. My body recovered in record time, but not my mind. I never remembered much before that.

And nothing I did remember made any sense. I remembered a lot of places, most of which didn't exist. Remembered a bunch of weird facts that weren't facts. Remnant, Vale, Aura, Semblances, Huntresses, Grimm. My psych suggested it might have been from fiction and not my actual life, and that was as good a theory as any. Didn't explain the picture in my wallet of people I knew were my family, though.

So I wandered, did some things I shouldn't have done, and eventually found my way back to New York. I'll admit I was pretty fucked up at that point. When I say I did some things I shouldn't have done, I mean I really shouldn't have done. Bad flings, bad drugs, bad decisions. But all through that I felt a drive to go out and do something, help people instead of moping in the corner. And that's how I found myself on my way to becoming one of New York's finest.

I accepted that I'd probably never know who I was born as or where. I had more pressing issues anyway. Like putting bad guys behind bars in a world where the heroes have become villains.

**_Winter Schnee_ **

It only took a moment for my world to turn upside down.

The loss of my sister hit me hard. She was cold. She was cynical. She was cruel. But she was my sister and in many ways, she was the only friend I ever had. I wanted to grieve, to scramble for the pieces of my shattered world. Instead, I had to put on a stoic face and take her place. Her unenviable place. I hated what I now had to do. And all through it, I felt an unquenchable rage burning within me.

I turned that anger into action. I wanted to find those responsible for the death of my sister and bring death to them. I thought it would be easy, clear-cut. Instead, I found myself digging into a massive conspiracy, knee-deep yet only scratching the surface. And in my own fruitless quest for vengeance, I only brought more death and destruction.

I could afford to make mistakes no longer. I was no longer Winter Schnee, sister of and backup to the Schnee heiress. I was now Winter Schnee, the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. In the forefront, not in the shadows. I thought I was prepared, but nothing could prepare me for this. It was position that demanded absolute perfection at the cost of anything resembling a life.

I had to be perfect, or at least look like it. It's not easy for someone who isn't. But I had to try.

**_Ruby Rose_ **

Earth had changed us.

I still don't know what happened, and nobody else can tell us either. I remember the night at the docks and the end of the term, but after that the first thing was waking up outside of Vancouver. Then we got the team back together with the help of some friends and then nobody else showed up. The government tried to help us but they couldn't really do much so they gave us fake names and sent us to school.

Living on Earth was really weird. It looks the same at first but when you look closer everything is different. Usually not super different but just a little bit to confuse you. It didn't help that it was back to high school for us, and this time I still had a few years even though my sister and Weiss and Blake graduated. We made new friends, did new stuff, bumbled our way through the year. I have a boyfriend, sort of, Yang got a boyfriend, and Weiss and Blake are together now. And all through that we kept our real identities secret.

It was weird how we changed. I mean, I don't think I changed that much, but maybe that's just because I'm the one looking. Without having to be the heiress, Weiss got kind of crazy and wild and impulsive and does a lot of stuff I never thought I'd see her do. Blake is still Blake, but not quite... I think she sees the world a bit different now even though I can't describe it. And the caring, careful side of Yang was showing more, even though she was still just as wild. And we all got lazy and comfortable and started focusing on school and friends and not staying in fighting shape or getting home.

We'd changed. And change can be good or bad but I don't know what kind of change this is.

**_Jaune Arc_ **

We died.

Well, we should have died.

It seems stupid if you're looking back on it. After RWBY disappeared, we took on their mission. I told myself it was because it's what they would have wanted, because it's the right thing to do, but was it really? Were we trying to go for justice or revenge? Or was I still the delusional idiot trying to play hero?

I guess in the end our reasons didn't matter. We chased after the White Fang, almost managed to stop them from attacking Vale. We helped fight off the Grimm when the city was breached. But it wasn't enough. We weren't the heroes. A lot of people died. And the bad guys who did it got away.

We didn't know where to go from there, but our mini snow angel came through. Glacias, the mysterious man helping us who turned out not to be a man at all. The next thing we knew, we were infiltrating a super secret base just outside of Atlas. They were ready for us, and it was more than we could handle. More than I could handle.

But we did it. We stopped them, took them out with us.

I hope.

* * *

**1: Dawn's Early Light**

The situation he was in made no sense to Jaune Arc.

One moment, he had been plunging his sword into a very complex and evidently very unstable piece of technology. He did so deep inside a White Fang base just outside of Atlas. The next, he was waking up on a set of broad stone steps surrounded by a very unfamiliar landscape that was definitely not Atlas.

The first thought he had was that the thing had exploded when he hit it, and he was either dead or close to it and hallucinating. He pinched himself. "Ow!"

His partner, Pyrrha Nikos, bolted upright. Her weapon was still in her hands. "What is it- where are we?"

"We're not dead," he replied quietly, looking around. There was a long reflecting pool flanked by trees ahead of them, with a slender obelisk visible at the other end. Behind them was a squat, square building ringed by tall pillars. "And I have no idea. Do you recognize this place, Pyrrha?"

"No," Pyrrha replied, just as confused. Her well-trained eyes scanned for threats. She could tell they were in a busy place, but their immediate surroundings were deserted. "It's not Mistral or Vale. Maybe we ended up in Atlas somehow?"

"No, I don't think so. I do not recognize this place either," Lie Ren, their stoic teammate, added as he slowly stood up. He dusted off his mostly pristine jacket. "Certainly it's not somewhere we've been before."

Nora Valkyrie, his energetic partner, cut in, "Oh! Maybe this is-"

Ren held a hand over her mouth. "Quiet, Nora. It may not be a friendly place."

She whispered back, "Sorry."

"Now, Nora, what were you about to say?"

In a more normal volume, she replied rapidly, "Well, I thought maybe this was Atlas, but then I realized that if it was Atlas I'd recognize it because we've been there once, remember? So I don't know either."

Jaune pointed to a red and white striped banner with stars on a blue background in the corner waving on a pole in the distance. "What about that? I don't recognize the flag, do you?"

"No."

"I do not."

"Nope!"

"What about our scrolls?" Pyrrha suggested. She pulled out her own and found that it had no network connection or navigation info. "Hmm, mine doesn't seem to be working."

Jaune checked his own device. "Mine neither."

Ren shrugged. Nora shook her head vigorously.

Jaune sighed, briefly inspecting his sword before sheathing it again. "We're not going to find answers here. Let's go."

"Which way?" Nora asked.

"Let's go left," her partner suggested. "I think most of the city is that way."

"Hopefully it's not a dangerous city," Ren added.

"We still have our weapons," Jaune reminded them, waving them toward the path on their left. The path was surrounded by trees and grass that muffled the sounds of the city somewhat. It looked frequently travelled, perhaps a tourist destination. Steel benches- one with a man sleeping on it- lined the path, along with garbage cans. A pair of joggers gave them odd looks as they went by.

"Hey!" Nora called, but they were already out of earshot. "Huh. Weird."

"Excuse me," Pyrrha asked the man on the bench. "We're very-"

"Fuck you!" The vagrant threw an empty bottle at her, which she narrowly dodged.

She backed away. "Sorry!"

* * *

"Hey, Grandpa," a strongly built man with a gravelly voice said to the gabbro wall in front of him. He placed a bouquet of flowers at the base of the stone before tracing his fingers over his grandfather's name. His own face, rimmed by messy brown hair and the beginnings of a beard, stared back from the reflective surface. "Sorry it took so long this time."

"Is he talking to the wall?" Nora whispered loudly to her teammates. They hid behind a row of shrubbery, just out of view of the man, though if he looked he would probably be able to spot them.

"This is a war memorial," Ren explained. "Most likely, his grandfather died during the war. He is here to pay his respects."

"Wow, Ren, how did you figure all that out?" None of them could figure out if Nora was being sarcastic or not.

His reply was deadpan. "Simple inference. Though I don't recognize this one, there are similar war memorials in every Kingdom."

"So, we're in Vacuo?" Jaune asked. "I mean, it must be one of the Kingdoms, but if it's not Vale or Atlas or Mistral..."

Ren shook his head. "I do not think this is Vacuo, though I've only seen pictures."

"I'm still conflicted, maybe more with everything that's been happening," the man continued, sitting down beside the wall. "I mean, we went into Iraq trying to fix up the place, and we've only fucked it up. Saddam may be long gone, but ISIS is worse. Feels futile. Was that what it was like for you? Sometimes I wonder what you really thought of Vietnam. Were you one of those ones? Guess we'll never know."

"That doesn't sound like the Great War," Pyrrha noted, surprised. She had automatically assumed that this was a monument to the Great War, but given their confusion, perhaps it was a mistaken conclusion.

"It could be a different war," Jaune told her. "What did he say? Vietnam?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "I've never heard of it, and look at the names on the wall. If those are all war dead, we would have heard of it."

"Maybe we're really far outside the Kingdoms?" the blonde suggested weakly. "Hey, maybe we can ask him!"

"I don't think that's a-" his partner warned, but it was too late. She motioned to Nora and Ren to stay put as she chased their leader toward the wall.

"Hello?" Jaune said toward the man, unsure.

His reply came in a surprisingly even tone. "Can I help you?"

"We're lost," the blonde admitted. He realized that the older man was scanning him, paying particular attention to his sword and armor. A young woman in bronze armour with red accents, carrying a shield on her back, came up behind him.

"Renaissance fair? Comic-con?" Mistaking the confused expression on the boy's face for one of taking offence, the veteran raised his hands. "Sorry. That was uncalled for. Where are you trying to go?"

"We're very lost," the girl admitted. "Could you tell us which city this is?"

"It's DC. Uh, Washington, DC," he replied quizzically. How could they be _that_ lost? "First time here?"

"It is. Which kingdom is that in?"

"Kingdom? Oh, I see." The man laughed, though they had no idea why. He turned serious. "Look, I know this is what you do, but this is a solemn memorial. I'd appreciate it if you took your roleplay elsewhere."

"I'm sorry," Pyrrha apologized, even though she had no idea what she was apologizing for. She gently pulled on Jaune's arm. "Come on, let's go."

The veteran waited for them to leave before talking to the wall again. "Did I mention the kids are weirder these days, Grandpa?"

* * *

"Well, that was weird," Nora commented as they exited the park- they were pretty sure it was a park by this point. "I'm hungry. We should get breakfast."

"But we still don't know where we are," Jaune reminded her.

"Then we can think about it over breakfast!"

"I guess that makes sense," the blonde conceded. "But where are we going to eat?"

They were in what was recognizably a city, though one that seemed an odd mix of new and old to them. A busy street with odd looking cars stretched along directly in front of them. Low-rise buildings that could be apartments, hotels, or offices lined the other side. High-rise buildings were visible in the distance. The sounds of a busy city were grating but familiar.

The acrid chemical smell was not. Nora took a loud sniff. "Do you smell that?"

"Yeah," Jaune replied. "I don't know what it is, but it stinks."

"I visited the industrial district in Atlas once," Pyrrha told them. "Parts of it carried this smell- something the plants processed. I forget what they called it."

"It doesn't look like an industrial district," Ren told her. "But I agree that it smells like one. Odd."

Nora repeated, "Well, we should find somewhere to-"

"Hey, look, cosplayers!" an excited female voice called. A teenaged girl with slightly curly brown hair carrying an oversized purse waved at them from across the street. Before any of them could respond, she raced across the street, narrowly avoiding a dull brown car as she crossed.

"Are we famous or something?" Jaune asked his teammates, confused.

"This is probably my fault," Pyrrha admitted, a guilty look on her face. "I guess I brought everyone's attention with me."

Jaune said reassuringly, "Hey. Don't worry about it."

"This is so cool!" the girl gushed, running up to them and fumbling with what looked like a scroll. "Can I take pictures?"

"Sure, no problem," Jaune answered awkwardly, the phrase almost coming out as a question.

"Thank you so much!" The girl raised her scroll and took a series of pictures punctuated by fake shutter sounds and one bright flash. "Do you mind if I post these?"

"No, it's fine," Pyrrha replied with false confidently. She whispered to Jaune, "Depending on where we really are, I might not be allowed to say no."

"Great, thanks! Who are you guys, anyway?"

"Jaune Arc, and this is-"

The fangirl cut off any possible reply, shoving her scroll back into her purse and breaking into a run. "Oh shit, I'm late! Gotta go, bye! Nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you too!" Pyrrha called after the retreating girl.

"That was weird," Nora commented.

Pyrrha shook her head slowly. "No, not really. Let's find somewhere to eat and maybe someone who can answer our questions."

* * *

"Finally, somewhere that's open!" Jaune exclaimed, swinging the glass door open dangerously fast. He stepped inside the cafe, holding the door open for his team. It was a small place, tired and in need of renovation yet warm and inviting at the same time. The only other customer glared at them briefly, muttered something under his breath, and went back to his newspaper.

A sign at the front told them to seat themselves, so they took a table in the corner near the front window. The chairs were small, and it was a tight squeeze for some of them. Jaune removed Crocea Mors and leaned it against the wall- a wall that could use some cleaning.

The waitress, a short woman in her late teens or early twenties, arrived quickly. She was drab in colour, with brown hair that was almost black and wearing clothing in earthy tones. The woman passed out menus and asked them, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Uh, coffee."

"Just an ice water, please."

"Green tea if you have it."

"A big glass of orange juice!"

"Sure," the waitress acknowledged, scribbling the order down on her pad. "Nice outfits. I didn't know there was a con in town- or are you guys LARPers?"

Jaune had no idea what she just said. "What?"

"We got a bit lost, that's all," Pyrrha replied with a smile.

The waitress shrugged and left to get their drinks.

"Okay, there's something really weird about this place," Jaune said, drumming his fingers against the wooden table. "We're the odd ones or something. Why?"

"Most of the people we've seen wear dull colours," Ren replied. "And we are the only ones carrying visible weapons apart from policemen and security guards."

"That weird smell," Nora reminded them. "I can smell it in here, too, but I can also smell something really tasty." She flipped through the menu and her eyes lit up. "Look, Ren, they have pancakes! Or should I go for the waffles?"

"Order the pancakes," Ren suggested. "I'll order waffles, and you can try mine."

"Okay, Ren-Ren!"

"I think I'll go for bacon and eggs," Jaune announced. "What about you, Pyrrha?"

"I'll go for the omelette."

The waitress came around quickly, and they placed their orders. Before she could leave, Pyrrha interrupted her. "Excuse me, are we still in Atlas?"

She shrugged. "Dunno where Atlas is. Are you Canadian?"

"Canadian?"

"We get a lot of tourists around here, and you sound like you're from Canada," the waitress replied. "A lot of Americans were here for the Fourth, though." She left before they could interrupt again.

"I have no idea what she just said," Jaune admitted.

Nora poked her chin, a contemplative look on her face. "What if we're not in Atlas or Vale or Vacuo or Mistral?"

"You mean if we're in another Kingdom, one that nobody knows about?" Pyrrha suggested.

Nora snapped her fingers. "Yep!"

"I think someone already mentioned that," Ren muttered.

"That's crazy," Jaune opined. "How could there be a Kingdom we don't know about? How did we get here?"

"It's a big world, Jaune," Ren answered. "And we have no idea what that machine did or what happened with it."

Jaune grabbed the waitress- literally- as she passed. "Hey, do you have a map?"

"Don't you have one on your phone?" she snapped.

Jaune was confused. "Why would my phone have a map?"

She sighed and shook her head. "We don't have any, but there's a convenience store down the street that probably has some."

He stood up right away. "Thanks-"

The waitress motioned him down. "Whoa! Your breakfast will be done in five, so I wouldn't run out just yet."

"Right. Sorry."

* * *

The Gemstone task force was almost a paradox, its mission as absurd as it was classified. That mission was simple- watch and prepare for the arrival of people from other worlds which may be friendly or hostile. For many analysts, that illustrious job description translated to a reality of trawling the internet like an obsessed fan.

That was the job of Vincent Rowe, a CIA analyst now working in the Gemstone office sitting on the edge of Vancouver's city limits. He had arrived less than an hour prior and was working through his usual morning routine of grabbing coffee from the vending machine and booting his computer. For security reasons, he browsed the internet from inside a virtual machine, so he had to wait for that to boot, too.

Once the computer was ready, he opened Chrome in the virtual machine and went to his usual first stop-

"Possible hit on the RWBY subreddit," Vincent called, opening the picture that caught his attention. "JNPR cosplayers."

Harry Iverson, the man currently in charge of the office, rushed over with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Looks pretty good, could be real."

In fact, many did look real and weren't, but it was Gemstone policy to treat everything as a 'possible'- it could be JNPR for real this time.

"I don't see any location information," the analyst added. "I can start checking-"

"Hold on." Iverson pointed to a spot on the screen- a white tower or pole in the corner of the image. "That looks like the Washington Monument."

Vincent squinted at it. "I'm not seeing it, sir."

"It's the trees and the road, too," Iverson added. "I was in Washington last week- this is what it looked like."

"Hmm... yeah, maybe." The analyst's eyes slowly traced to a reflective... thing in a corner of the image. "That could be the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial, see it?"

His supervisor nodded. "Well, let's see what Google has to say about it."

With a few mouse clicks and some tapping on his keyboard, the analyst brought up Google Street View, showing his best guess location. He moved down the street before arriving where the picture was taken. "That's Washington alright."

Iverson nodded. "Good work, Vince. We've got a place. Now how about a positive ident?"

Vincent opened his photo viewer and started scrolling through the photos- a few photos of the real JNPR that RWBY had carried with them to Earth. He shrugged. "Better than most, but it's not a great picture. It's a maybe."

"Yeah, it's a maybe," Iverson agreed. "It's worth taking a second look. I'll run it by the girls when they get up. You know the drill."

"Log it and keep looking," Vincent confirmed. "Well, this keeps me in practice, that's for sure."


	2. Afraid and Confused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this one. Standard disclaimers apply. I'm still getting the hang of this site, so some of the formatting may be very weird.

**2** **:** **Afraid and Confused  
**

Nora leaned back in her chair, a satiated grin on her face. Her tongue lashed out, removing the last remnants of syrup from her lips. “Mmm... that was good.”

Her partner, the stoic Lie Ren, nodded as he gently placed his fork across the plate in front of him. “Yes.”

“So were these,” Jaune agreed. He pushed his plate away noisily, dropping his cutlery on top of the dirty dish with a loud clatter.

“It was satisfying,” Pyrrha allowed. Unlike the others, she found her omelette overcooked and overflavoured. She stood, starting to pull a Lien chit from her pocket before her partner blocked her.

“A true gentleman always pays,” Jaune said lightly as he stood. “Although I guess this is actually Winter's money.”

“I hope she's okay,” Nora noted. “Hmm... I wonder if anyone is looking for us?”

“I hope so,” Jaune replied. “I don't know if they'd know where to look, but that would make it a lot easier if they did, wouldn't it?”

His partner asked, “Who would be looking for us?”

“There's Winter.” He snapped his fingers. “She's got lots of resources! She'll find us!”

Ren shook his head. “She is also constrained by her role and may believe we are beyond help.”

“Right...” Jaune muttered, deflated. “Hey, what about the Headmaster? And everyone at Beacon?”

“Nope, they probably don't even know where we went,” Nora said. She paused briefly and added, “Maybe they'll look anyway?”

“It's possible that others may find us, but until then, we must take action ourselves,” Ren said sagely. He knew they had to get moving, especially if this seemingly friendly place turned out to be more than meets the eye.

“We should pay, Jaune,” Pyrrha reminded him. She knew they had to have this conversation, but wanted to wait for more information and a more comfortable venue.

“Right.” Jaune's team followed as he headed toward the small counter in the cafe, removing a large-valued lien chit from the messy pockets of his hoodie. The waitress was ready for them, and glanced briefly at the odd group before taking the chit and swiping it through the card machine.

She glanced briefly at the odd credit card before handing it back. “I'm sorry, we only accept Visa and MasterCard.”

Jaune was very surprised. He absentmindedly took back the chit, asking, “What? You don't take Lien?”

The waitress stared at him, confused. “What's Lien? Sorry, if it's not a credit card I recognize, I can't take it.”

“Credit card?” Nora asked nobody in particular, confused.

 “Right... can you pay with cash instead?”

 “Lien _is_ cash!” the blonde boy stammered.

 She rolled her eyes, biting back a sharp retort at the ignorant tourists. “We only accept American dollars and select foreign currencies. They're listed with the exchange rates on your left.”

 Jaune looked at the sheet of paper, but only saw unfamiliar abbreviations paired with decimal values. AUD, CAD, GBP, EUR, CNY. “What does that even mean?”

 The waitress sighed deeply, reciting impatiently, “Australian dollars, Canadian dollars, Pounds, Euros, and Chinese money.”

 Jaune's confusion was growing. “What?”

 “Where are you guys from, anyway?” she asked again. “Look, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but why would you come here without money?”

 “This is money!” Jaune yelled. “This is the money we use!”

 “I'm sorry, but it's not money we accept. I don't even recognize it!” The waitress took a step back. “Look, I'm going to get my manager, okay?”

 She left, going through an open doorway into the kitchen. Jaune and his team heard unintelligible whispers followed by a loud, deep exclamation of _They fucking what?_

 A tall and heavyset man, bald and wearing a dirty apron, stomped out of the kitchen. He surveyed the colourful quartet briefly before deflating. “Well, you don't look like any crooks I've seen. You get lost on the way from the ren fair?”

 “Something like that,” Ren muttered. He had no idea what the man was talking about, but decided to play along for the moment.

 The man chewed his lip, indecisive. “You come a long way to DC? Where you from?”

 “Vale,” Jaune answered quickly for them.

 “Never heard of it. Man, you must be really lost.” He held up the Lien chit Jaune had tried paying with. “I don't know what this is. I can't spend this or exchange this or do anything with this. It's a worthless piece of plastic to me. If you don't have any money I can recognize, you don't have any money.”

Pyrrha smiled sweetly and apologetically. “I'm sorry, but that's all we have.”

He rubbed his temples, anger giving way to irritation. “You came here without any cash or normal credit cards, knew you didn't have any money, and tried to pay anyway?”

“We're very sorry,” Pyrrha apologized again. “None of us realized you wouldn't take our money. And that's all we have left.”

“Look, I've been there. I've been in some pretty shitty places, and I guess you guys really are lost or you're stupid because you didn't just dine and dash.” He sighed. “I'm not gonna call the cops. I don't know, maybe that'll even get you kicked back to whatever shitty country you come from. But either you come back with the cash, or you don't come back at all, understand?”

“I understand,” Jaune replied, turning toward the door. “Thank you.”

“Thank you!” Pyrrha echoed.

 “Bye!” Nora added with a little wave as they left.

 Ren bowed toward the manager as he exited. “Your gratitude is appreciated.”

 After the odd group had left, the waitress asked quitely, “Are we gonna phone it in?”

 “A shitty pretend knight, a Spartan girl, an effeminate Asian and a pink girl with ADHD tried to pay with toy money.” The manager shook his head ruefully. “Are you kidding? They'd never believe me.”

 * * * * *

The promised convenience store really was just down the street, but they almost missed it. Unlike most convenience stores, it had only a few small signs outside and its name in white letters on two red awnings. It was a small store tucked into an old, stately building, surprisingly reserved in appearance.

 “Seven-eleven,” Nora read, staring curiously at the sign. “Never heard of that one before.”

 “If this is a strange foreign land, a strange foreign convenience store would be expected,” Ren replied, peering through the window. “It looks like a normal convenience store, at least.”

 Jaune strode toward the entrance, but stopped when his partner grasped his shoulder. “Jaune, are you sure going to this particular convenience store is a good idea? What if they did call the police?”

 “He said he wouldn't,” Jaune replied. “Besides, there are no police in there.”

 “They might be not wearing uniforms,” Nora reminded them. “Then they'd already be chasing us. Or maybe they'll wait for us to go inside, and if we don't, they'll chase us.”

 “It's too late now,” Ren summarized.

 “Let's just go in,” Jaune urged, leading the way.

 The store was empty save for the bored-looking clerk, a young man with messy hair a few years older then them. He sat behind the counter, staring down at an electronic device in his hands.

 “Excuse me, do you have any maps?” Pyrrha asked with her usual (and often forced) cheerful voice and smile.

 He didn't even look up from the thing in his hands. “Back corner.”

 “Thank you.” The rest of her team had already spotted the display and made their way across the small store. She rushed to catch up.

 About a dozen different maps sat in a metal display rack shoved awkwardly into the corner. Most of the maps were folded, but a few were bound books. They were bright red and very distinctive, though the rack itself had seen better days.

 Jaune picked out a sideways folded map and unfolded it. “The World- whoa. This is _weird_.”

 Instead of the familiar continents of Remnant, he was faced with something else entirely. Four continents and two massive islands stared back at him, crisscrossed with myriad lines that could only be national borders and labelled with meaningless place names.

 “This is not our world,” Ren concluded for all of them.

 “Maybe it's just a joke map,” Nora suggested weakly. “Try one of the other ones.”

 Pyrrha grabbed one of the books, uninspiring labelled _The United States_. It showed a small portion of the northwest continent, labelled in more detail. She said nothing, simply showing it to her team.

 “Maybe they're not accurate?” Nora offered. She shook her head. “No, that's silly.”

 “Guys, maybe we're not on Remnant anymore.” Jaune sighed. His voice was dark and serious. “We don't know what that thing does. Maybe it brought us here, to this place, somehow.”

 “Oh...” Nora chewed her lip. “This is bad.”

 “Jaune, if this isn't Remnant, then where are we?” Pyrrha asked.

 Jaune shook his arms. “Wait, wait. We shouldn't just jump to conclusions. I mean, how likely is it that we ended up on another world? We're probably just missing something.”

 He laughed, though it was forced and they all knew it. “We should find out what's _really_ happening first. Learn more before acting! Just like the leadership lessons. Now, any ideas?”

 “Perhaps we should-”

 “We can try-”

 Nora snapped her fingers, cutting her teammates off. “What about the library? They've got to have them here, right? Libraries have books! Books have information!”

 “That's what I was thinking,” Jaune agreed. “Now we just have to find one. Are there any on the map, Nora?”

 She took the map and turned it upside down. “Nope.”

 “These aren't local maps,” Ren told them. “We should ask the clerk instead.”

 Jaune nodded. He motioned for his team to stay before approaching the checkout counter.

 “Can I help you?” the bored-looking clerk asked, looking up from the electronic device in his hands once again.

 The blonde smiled nervously. “Yeah, uh, can you help me find the nearest library?”

 * * * * *

 The library was located in a curved building faced in a mix of glass, muted brown stone, and off white trim. It seemed to have twelve floors, counting the ground floor, although one was extra high and may have been two floors. It was a large building, the property extending down the street and also back to form a sort of triangle. To some, it would seem more akin to a hotel or apartment complex than a library.

 Nora spoke for all of them in her usual boisterous manner. “Are you sure this is a library?”

 “That's what the man in the store said,” her partner replied simply. “I see no reason for him to lie to us.”

 “This is the place,” Pyrrha said confidently, motioning again to the sign that declared the building as the _West End Interim Library_. “I think only part of the building is being used as a library, and it used to be something else.”

 “Well, yeah, I mean, it's an _interim_ library,” Jaune added. “That means temporary, right?”

 Ren nodded, though his leader was moving ahead of him and couldn't see the motion. “Correct.”

 “Hopefully they'll still have what we're looking for,” Jaune continued.

 “What _are_ we looking for?” Nora interrupted.

 “Anything to tell us where we are... where we really are,” the blonde replied, unsure. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, taking a brief moment to observe his surroundings.

 Despite very possibly being on an alien planet, the library was instantly familiar to him. A checkout desk staffed by two middle-aged women was next to the exit, flanked by a prominently labelled book return and information terminal. Most of the space was taken up by partially full bookshelves, occasionally interspersed with open spaces with tables and chairs. Crude-looking computer terminals with colourful screens lined some of the walls.

 The clientele seemed to be a mix of decently dressed students and dishevelled people who probably couldn't afford to buy books. A few children and unruly teens broke the hallowed silence of a library. It wasn't a very big or impressive library, but it was definitely a library.

 Nora was already rushing deep into the building. “Newspapers! I'm going to go get newspapers!”

 “I'd better go with her,” Ren said quickly, following his unpredictable partner. “Last time she went to a library alone, she was banned for life.”

 “I think it's best if we look for history books,” Pyrrha suggested to Jaune. “Maybe encyclopedias, too.”

 He nodded in reply. “Okay, that's what I was thinking, too. Now we've just got to find them.”

 Pyrrha scanned the room, looking for labels on the shelves. She pointed to one. “Nonfiction is over there.”

 “Okay,” Jaune acknowledged, following her toward the nonfiction section. “The library code for history is-” He paused. “But if this is really way far away, it won't be the same.”

 His partner knelt down, examining the labels on the books. “You're right. Three digits instead of four. These books are about architecture and design.”

 “Well, the library isn't that big- I don't think it's that big. We just have to search.” Jaune started pulling books from the shelf and examining them. “Art, art, computer art- wow, that's pretty cool. Not what we're looking for, too bad. Nope, this is all art and stuff. What about you, Pyrrha?”

 “I believe this is the literature section,” Pyrrha replied after examining some of the books on the other side of the shelf. “I don't recognize any of the authors, though, and some of these languages are named oddly.”

 “Huh?”

 She held up an almost new book with a stately blue and white cover. “Epic Poems of Ancient Greece: The Odyssey. The introduction is in Valic, but the rest is an old Mistralian script.”

 Jaune shrugged. “Weird. Might as well grab it, maybe it'll be useful.”

 Pyrrha tucked the book under her arm. “Have you found anything?”

 “Lots of kinda neat stuff, but not history.” He was almost at the end of the shelf, and was now looking through books on construction and manufacturing. “Nope. What about-”

 “I've found it!” she interrupted excitedly. The clerk at the front glared at them briefly before going back to her work.

 Jaune rushed over to her side. “Found what?”

 “The books we're looking for,” his partner replied, handing him a book with a red, white, and blue cover labelled _United States History_.

 He recognized the image on the cover. “That's the flag we saw when we got here! That must be what this place is called- the United States!”

 Pyrrha nodded. “Yes. These books are about the United States, but if you keep going...” She motioned to the row of clearly labelled history books lined up on the shelf.

 “Canada- didn't the waitress mention Canada?” Jaune began pulling books off the shelf, excited. “Vietnam, like the old crazy guy! And the history of the world. Man, this is so weird.”

 “We have found what we're looking for,” Pyrrha said firmly, worried about her eager partner getting distracted. “Should we help Nora and Ren?”

 He considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah, they'll be fine. Let's grab a few more, then find a place to sit down.”

 * * * * *

 The other half of Team JNPR perused a small section near the front of the library. It was near the checkout desks, though just out of view of the clerks around a sharp corner. A few tables and computers defined the space. A lone wood rack held the newspapers, neatly folded and sorted by date and publication company.

 Or, rather, they had been. Before Ren could stop his hyperactive partner, she had rushed in and started pulling out the newspapers in no particular order. Several of them were strewn across the nearby table, with others that didn't interest her were shoved back into the rack wherever they would fit.

 While Ren attempted to put the discarded newspapers back into some semblance of order, Nora peered over the other ones. There was some method to her madness. She had sorted the papers on the table by most to least promising, with the ones that she figured would be more informative above and in front of the others.

 She grabbed one of the papers and held it up to show Ren, ripping a small hole in the paper in the process. “July 4, 2015. That's the newest one. I wonder how old it is? Ren-Ren?”

 Ren moved one of the older papers to the top of the rack before responding. “The waitress mentioned the Fourth in the past tense and implied a recent event. It could be yesterday, but it could have been weeks ago. ”

 “Well, something important happened,” Nora said, skimming the front page. It showed a bold flag with white and red stripes and stars and a blue background, flanked by a stylized eagle. “Independence Day. Independence of what?”

 Her partner glanced at the paper. “Perhaps they separated from another Kingdom?”

 “Huh, that's a weird thing for a Kingdom to do,” Nora replied. She skimmed the text a bit more before finding what she was looking for, snapping her fingers as she did. She quoted the text in an exaggerated voice, “The United States of America celebrates its 229th birthday today. Although the day is just beginning, revellers are already filling the streets of the nation's capital.”

 “The Washington Post,” Ren mentioned. “I guess we are in Washington, the capital of the United States of America.”

 She chewed her lip before replying, “What does that mean?”

 “To us, nothing,” he answered after a moment of consideration. “As much as I don't want it to be the case, Jaune may be right. Let's grab those papers and meet up with them.”

 “Aye-aye, Ren-Ren!” Nora snapped off a salute, gathered up the papers in her arms, and sped off toward Jaune and Pyrrha.

 Her ever-patient partner sighed and picked up a fallen page before following at a much more reasonable pace.

 * * * * *

 It didn't take long for the hyperactive ginger to find her teammates. She noted happily that their chairs were _very_ close together. With no announcement whatsoever, she dumped her stack of papers on the table and plunked herself down in the nearest available seat.

“Hey, what the-” Jaune said angrily before looking up. “Oh, it's you guys. I guess you found newspapers, huh.”

“Uh-huh!” Nora replied excitedly. “Did you? History books, I mean, because you wouldn't be looking for newspapers because we were-”

“We found what we were looking for,” Pyrrha replied, starting to stack the newspapers and unbury some of the books she had grabbed.

“Welcome to another world?” Nora asked randomly. “Is this another world? It has-”

“Nora,” Ren warned.

“Right, sorry,” she apologized. “I'm just overreacting- I mean I overreact all the time and maybe it's not an overreaction- but I guess we're all overreacting. We're probably just in another Kingdom or something.”

“Which could still be bad,” Pyrrha whispered.

“But not _as_ bad.”

“We've got our stuff together,” Jaune interrupted in a voice he hoped was confident and encouraging. “Now we've just got to figure out... everything.”

 

 


	3. Stranger Than Fiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I imagine the manager as being a cameo appearance by Jennifer Hale. Usually, I don't associate characters to actors, but this is a rare exception.
> 
> I think some of the plot points here worked better than others. I have mixed feelings about following a comic book- this is meant to be a sort of callback to all the SI fics where the self insert uses fiction as a sort of guide. It's also meant to demonstrate why those common tropes don't actually work. The ending I had some indecision on, but I think it works. You drop the T-word in the middle of Washington and the police will notice, funny outfits or not. I'm not happy with the flow, but I couldn't figure out a way to improve it. Thoughts?
> 
> Originally, there was a bit of RWBY in this chapter, but I decided to extend JNPR's parts and move the rest into the next. I think the timing will work out better this way, actually. Believe it or not, we're already at the halfway point of Act One. It's still planned for six chapters.

"So... we're on a planet called Earth, with hundreds of different nations and seven billion people. A city called Washington, the capital of the United States," Jaune Arc said uneasily. "I kind of understand that."

"It's a very strange world," Pyrrha added. "I could not find any references to the Grimm, Hunters, Aura, or Dust. I'm not certain if that means they don't exist here, but that seems to be the case. I... can't imagine life without it, but these people seem to manage."

"Very odd indeed," Ren opined. "A parallel world, very similar to and yet very different from the world we know. And not in the ways I would have expected."

"It's a big confusing planet," Nora summarized.

"This is insane," Jaune concluded.

"Insane doesn't mean impossible or bad," Nora reminded him lightly.

"We have to have missed something," the blonde insisted. "It can't be real."

"An entire library cannot be faked easily," Pyrrha insisted.

He still refused to believe it. "Come on, this is like a comic book, and not even a good one. Seven billion people? No Grimm? No Dust? It can't be happening!"

"Jaune," Ren interrupted quietly, but firmly. "We did not miss anything. This must be the truth- it is the improbable when the impossible has been dismissed. We just have to accept it."

The sobering statement was followed by a long, ponderous silence.

Jaune didn't know what to think, with different parts of his mind pulling in different directions. One part of him was focused on how cool it was to be in another very different world. Another was the exact opposite, raging against their unfortunate fate. A few others were more pragmatic. They were still together, they didn't know how to get back, they got here somehow, they needed to figure out what to do. The last voice, a tiny one, urged that there was something important he was missing.

Despite her reputation, Nora could think clearly when the situation demanded, and she did consider their situation. They were very very very far away from home, in a really weird place. But they still had each other, and if they made it here somehow there must be a way back. Her brain worked quickly- she spent very little time dwelling before going back to the question of how many sloths could fit in the building around them.

Pyrrha had trained her mind as well as her body, and forced herself to focus on practical concerns. She was with her team in a very strange place, with no idea how they got there or how to get back. They needed to fit in, find a source of income, and find somewhere to stay. Still, tendrils of emotion and irrational thought surged through, reminding her that they were very lost and very alone, with no idea how to actually accomplish any of their goals. The tendrils threatened to overwhelm her, and she knew that the only way to stave them off was to take action.

Ever stoic and ever focused, Ren occupied himself with what they knew and what they could do rather than what they didn't know and what they couldn't. They knew with a fairly high degree of certainty that they were now on a completely different and deceptively alien world. They would need to figure out how to live in this world, at least until they could find a way back. He had many questions of a more philosophical nature, of course, but they could wait and had to wait.

It was Pyrrha who broke the silence, seemingly hours but actually barely a minute later. "So, what do we do now?"

"I don't know." Jaune knew it was the worst thing to say, but he simply didn't have anything better. "I don't know."

* * *

It was beautiful day in the American capital, a city already awake and active, but that was the last thing on the minds of the four young strangers in brightly coloured clothes. To them, it was not the familiar city of their everyday lives but a very strange place full of mystery and possibly danger.

The roads they walked down were not the familiar ones they travelled everyday, but strange paths with unknown destinations. The cars on the roads were not the unique yet generic vehicles that dotted every roadway, but strange machines that smelled bad and sounded off. The buildings were off, the people looked wrong, even the traffic lights were familiar yet completely foreign.

"We've been wandering around for over an hour," Nora complained, though her voice was light. "Have you figured out what to do yet, dear leader?"

"No," Jaune sighed. He thought the walk would clear their heads and maybe he'd find what he'd been missing, but he only had more questions. He knew they were lost, very lost, and he had no idea how to get them un-lost.

"What about now?" she asked again after only a few seconds.

"Maybe we should just turn ourselves in," Jaune suggested, dejected. He was growing tired from wandering and knew his team was quickly getting frustrated. "The police can help us, right?"

"Nope!" Nora replied instantly.

"Why not?"

"What if they don't believe us? What if they think we're crazy? What if they're the bad guys here? What if they just don't care?" the hyperactive girl warned in an annoyingly cheerful voice. "We'd be booped."

Her partner calmly offered a counterpoint. "On the other hand, it's possible that the police here are competent. They may even be familiar with this situation."

Jaune Arc looked to his own partner. "Pyrrha?"

She weighed their options in her mind briefly. "I think it's a possibility, but we should get a better understanding of this world and a better idea of we are doing first."

"That's a good idea," Jaune replied with a tired nod. "I just don't have a better idea."

"Then we need to stop and think instead of continuing to wander around hoping for a miracle," his partner replied icily.

"You're right, Pyrrha." Jaune sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just... I don't know what to do. I mean, I just- I have no idea. This is so weird and impossible and not something I'd imagined being a huntsman would be like. I've only read about this happening in a stupid comic book."

Before the redhead could reply, Nora interrupted, "So, let's just do what they did in the comic book."

* * *

"The first thing we need to do is blend in," Jaune told his teammates. His knowledge of fiction was, embarrassingly, often better than his understanding of real life. A new confidence shone in his voice as he considered how to apply it. "And to blend in, we need clothes. Merla Skye just took some from a clothesline hanging in someone's yard, so that's what I'm going to do."

"Isn't that stealing?" Nora asked.

He nervously scratched the back of his head. "We're just, uh, borrowing. We'll give the clothes back once we get some of our own or something."

"I don't like this," Pyrrha opined.

"Hey, better ideas?" He paused to emphasize the lack of response. With false confidence, he joked, "This will only be a minute."

Jaune crossed the street toward a backyard with a conspicuous clothesline, covered in a variety of clothing, for both genders and in varying sizes. All were very drab, but everyone seemed to dress that way in this city so it was hardly a surprise. The fence was just a bit higher than his head, and he easily scrambled over, darting toward his goal.

He muttered to himself as he selected some of the clothes. "Okay, it's easy, right? It's not stealing... we just need to borrow them-."

"Hey! What the fuck?" a loud voice boomed from behind him. He turned and saw that a very angry middle-aged man had emerged from the house onto the deck. "Get off my fucking lawn! Hey! Drop it, you piece of shit!"

"Oh, crap!" The blonde boy was split between grabbing what he could and running or just running.

The man continued to shout from the second story deck, seemingly unwilling to get directly involved. Jaune was just glad that he wasn't being shot at. "The fuck's wrong with you, this some kind of fucked up roleplay? Drop the fucking clothes! Get the fuck out of here before I call the fucking cops!"

Under the verbal assault, Jaune broke, dropping the clothes and darted for the fence when he realized what kind of trouble he was in. "That's right, boy, you better fucking run!"

"Jaune, what did you do?" Pyrrha asked as he dashed across the street.

"It was a terrible idea!" He motioned for them to run. "Let's get out of here before he calls the police!"

* * *

"Okay, so we're just going to have to find some work, _then_ get some clothes," Jaune Arc assured his team as they stood outside the grocery store. "Not exactly like the comic book, but this is real life. We can't take shortcuts, we have to do it the right way. No problem, right?"

Nora flashed him a thumbs-up. "No problem!"

This time, they all went in together, striding past the sliding glass doors and toward the customer service desk at the right side of the store. Although Jaune was too preoccupied, his teammates took a moment to examine the store. It seemed much like their own supermarkets, even if the brands were totally unfamiliar.

There was only one person behind the counter, a young woman maybe just out of her teens. She looked up at them and suppressed a laugh. "Did you just come from some anime convention? What are you looking for?"

He smiled, waving his arm in an exaggerated gesture. "Help wanted, we can help."

"Looking like that?" She shook her head; it didn't matter. "Sure, whatever. Through the door on the back wall, on the left. Big sign that says _the boss_."

Jaune bowed slightly. "Thank you."

The group headed down the left side of the store, through the produce section. Some of the vegetables and fruit were unfamiliar to them, and some of their common ones were missing, but overall the selection was surprisingly similar to home. Ren, the most observant of them, realized that many vegetables that were normally only available in wildly different seasons were displayed alongside each other.

Both doors were exactly where the girl said they would be, and the manager's office was open. A redhead in her late twenties or early thirties leaned back in her chair, cigarette in her left hand. She looked up at them as they crowded in. "Can I help you?"

Pyrrha answered, "Yes, we're-

The manager snapped her fingers, cutting her off. "Let me guess, sponsorship? Advertising opportunity? Sorry, guys, but the head office decides that, not me."

Jaune shook his head. "Actually, we were looking for work."

"So you walk into my office instead of just doing the form online like everyone else?" the manager asked rhetorically. She put down the cigarette, tented her fingers and smirked. "Okay, I'll bite. Why should I hire you?"

His answer was shaky and came out almost as a question. "Because we need the work."

In an unexpected gesture, the manager slammed her hand across the desk. "Damn, that's it? Dressed to the nines, kick down the door, then that's all you got? Come on, really. This is your cover letter, sure, where's your resume?"

"We don't have any, we just really need some money," Jaune answered honestly.

The manager shrugged. "You can pull off a stunt, I get that, but what makes you better than everyone else that actually filled out the damn paperwork?"

"Uh..."

She idly pulled the cigarette apart and screwed on what appeared to be a new filter before sticking it back in her mouth, an act which thoroughly confused the teenagers. "Do you even have a resume? References? Job experience? Or did you really think that this alone would work?"

"Um... I guess we did."

"Come on, we'd be awesome employees!" Nora said excitedly, almost knocking over the file cabinet beside her.

"Please, we really need the money," Pyrrha begged.

"Sure you do." The manager sighed. Maybe they really did and she would be denying them the needed cash. Maybe they were just naive and she was destroying their hopes and dreams. But she had a business to run and, more importantly, superiors to answer to. "Your problem, not mine. Sorry. If you're really in a bind, try the Salvation Army."

"I understand," Jaune said quietly, leading his team out of the office. "Sorry for wasting your time."

"Eh, I got a kick out of it," the manager called after them. "Buy something on your way out!"

* * *

"The Salvation Army," Jaune Arc read from the sign hung on the side of the modern brick building. "I guess it's some kind of charity organization."

A middle-aged woman sat behind a desk near the front. Men and women, some of them looking quite run down, sat in chairs or wandered about the room. The place looked like it had once been nice, but was now dirty and smelled bad. The bright hues meant to evoke positive emotions were now faded and dull, giving the room a dreary feel.

The woman at the front desk eyed the group as they approached. "Nice costumes. Can I help you?"

The blonde boy answered nervously, "Yeah, we're really lost and we need a place to stay. We're hungry and we don't have any money and we basically have no idea what we're doing."

"That's very unfortunate," the woman said sympathetically. "Do you want to talk about what happened? I'll understand if you don't."

"The Lord Jesus Christ," Nora muttered, turning over a pamphlet in her hands. "Oh, great, I think this is a cult."

The woman heard her. "I would appreciate it if you do not dismiss our denomination as a cult."

"Nora-"

The girl ignored her partner. "Wow, if you donate enough money, you get to meet this big guy when you die!"

That angered the receptionist. "That's not what it says at all! By the-"

Nora cut her off, waving the pamphlet. She sang, "It's a cult! We wandered into a cult! Look at all the crazy symbols! Cult!"

Sighing, the woman said quietly to Jaune, "Is your friend mentally ill? We can help her-"

"No, she's just a bit, uh, weird." Jaune forced a smile at her, pushing his team toward the door. "On second thought, we're fine. Bye now!"

"Wait, Jaune," Ren began, but was cut off by his boistrous partner shoving him out the exit.

They ran a block down the street before ducking into an alleyway. Breathing deeply, Jaune said, "Okay, I think we're safe now. Ren, what were you going to say?"

"Merely that because a religion is unfamiliar to us does not make it inherently evil or dangerous," Ren said icily. "Most likely, we dismissed the beliefs many of this world hold dear and in a very offensive manner at that."

There was an awkward silence, which Nora finally interrupted. "Oops."

* * *

"So, we can't get a job, we have nowhere to stay, we've insulted this world's church, and the cops might be after us." The leader of Team JNPR leaned against the concrete wall and sighed, dejected. "Great, just great."

Pyrrha put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It was worth a try, Jaune."

He pushed the hand away. "I should have known something from a stupid comic wouldn't work."

"Well, it's not like we had any other ideas," Nora reminded him, sitting on the wall beside them. "Hey, we'll figure this out. We managed to stop Cinder, didn't we..." The words died on her tongue. "Did we?"

"God damn it!" Jaune shouted in a rare display of obscenity. Quietly, he added, "I thought they died when I destroyed that machine. But we should have died, and we're here. What if they came through, too?"

"Then this seemingly peaceful place is in grave danger from a threat they have no knowledge or experience of," Ren told them succinctly.

"This is very bad," Pyrrha opined. "What do we do, Jaune?"

"Well, Merla found the bad guys and fought them off herself... but life isn't a comic book. This city's way too big and we have nothing. We can't do it." Jaune shook his head. "I guess we're going to have to talk to the police after all."

"That could still go bad," Nora reminded them. "It might not, but it might."

"Does anyone have any other ideas?" Jaune asked. He knew that, but.. "We can't stand by and do nothing. If they're really here, lots of innocent people could die."

He received only a stoic silence in response. "We don't have a choice. Let's go find a police station."

* * *

"This is a pretty nice place to put a police station, huh?" Jaune Arc said offhand, tension evident in his voice.

Pyrrha's trained eyes surveyed the area. The police station was waterfront property, backing onto what looked like an inlet or river. The building itself was long and thin, light brown with a deliberately misaligned roof. A small patch of grass interrupted the pavement in front where a row of police vehicles where parked. Like most of the cars they'd seen, these were low, sleek machines that looked simultaneously futuristic and archaic. "We can do this, Jaune. We have to."

"I know, I just..." Jaune paused. "Merla tried this, and it didn't go well for-"

"Jaune," Ren interrupted. "We know that events may not unfold the way they do in fiction."

"All too well," Pyrrha agreed.

"Jaune's comic has a point, though," Nora dissented. "What if the po-po think we're cuckoo?"

Ren reminded him, "That is a risk you have to take."

"I know." Jaune nodded. "I know."

Taking him by surprise, Nora pushed the boy toward the door, "If we're gonna do it, do it!"

Jaune took a deep breath, then strode toward the door, pushing it violently open. He didn't pause to take in his surroundings or think about his tenuous situation, but simply strode toward an officer manning the front desk.

"What do you want, kid?" The officer sounded tired and distracted.

"Okay, we're students from Beacon... not that that means anything, but we came here when we should have died and now we're here and maybe Cinder Fall is too." Jaune sputtered. Great, now he was blowing it. He had to get it right! "And they're really bad people, so-"

"Is this some kind of joke?" the man snapped. "You know you can go to jail for this kind of prank, right?"

Another uniformed officer came up behind and whispered something in his ear. Jaune caught some mention of mental illness.

He wasn't crazy, this was important! Don't overthink it, keep it simple and honest! "Officer, they're terrorists and they might be planning an attack!"

The police officer stiffened visibly. He stared at Jaune intently. "Okay. I'm listening."


	4. Finding Your Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm actually ahead of schedule. There are two more chapters left in the first act. I'm not sure what I'm going to do between acts- there will be bridge chapters, but I'm not sure how many or what the format will be. After that, there are two more acts that may end up longer than this one.

_7:57_

Ruby Rose stared at the bright red numbers on the clock as they slowly changed from minute to agonizingly long minute.

_7:58_

For some reason, she'd woken up early in the morning and had a lot of trouble trying to get back to sleep. She'd managed a few times, but only for about ten minutes at a time, and now had been awake for almost half an hour. With her usual morning fast approaching, there was no longer any point in even trying to sleep.

_7:59_

She had an uneasy feeling in her gut that morning; a sort of uncomfortable malaise that couldn't be defined but continued to bother her. It had happened before and had only been getting worse since the school year had ended. She knew consciously that it was a fairly normal reaction to her fairly not normal situation, but that didn't help her get to sleep. She couldn't ignore things feeling wrong.

_8:00_

Then again, maybe it was just the heat. It was pretty hot in the middle of one of the hottest summers she'd-

A loud sound shocked her mind out of its half-awake fugue into a fully aware state. It took her a few seconds to figure out what the sound was before she recognized it as the phone ringing. She rolled toward her nightstand, scrambling for the landline handset sitting beside the clock.

"Hello?" Ruby greeted sleepily, managing to hit the answer button on the first try.

"This is Iverson," a male adult who was much more awake than she was replied through the handset. "We've got a probable. Check your email."

"Mmmkay." She hung up, tried to put the handset back into its dock and dropped it on the floor. "Gah."

"Was that another fucking telemarketer?" Weiss slurred from her bed on the other side of the room.

"Nope, Gemstone thinks they found someone," Ruby replied as she rolled out of bed. She placed the phone back in its holder before crossing the shared bedroom to her desk, silently cursing her decision to leave her phone charging on the opposite side of the room instead of keeping it on her nightstand.

Weiss' reply was unenthusiastic. "Oh."

Ruby suppressed a laugh as she unlocked her phone. "Remember when you would always be the first to get up, exactly on time?"

"I do," the white-haired girl replied simply.

Ruby opened the Gmail app on her phone and watched as a bunch of spam- and the one message she was looking for- filtered in. It was labelled "JNPR Cosplayers". She thought cosplay was pretty cool, actually. However, in communications from Gemstone (or their shell accounts, anyway) it was actually a euphemism for what could be the real deal.

The key word was _could_. More often than not, the cosplayers turned out to be exactly that. Some of them were pretty good, and they often had little to go on- lousy pictures and fading memories. This time, as soon as she saw the picture, she was more sure than ever that it was real.

"Weiss," Ruby said slowly, now totally one hundred percent awake. "I think JNPR is here."

* * *

Master Patrol Officer Fred Coleman rubbed his eyes tiredly. Of all the assignments he could have had, the one he ended up stuck with was this one. Four kids in anime outfits telling the most absurd story he had ever heard, expecting him to believe it in some kind of ridiculous prank he still couldn't figure out. He was tempted to just throw them out or arrest them for jerking them around, but this was a terrorist threat. No matter how absurd, they had to take every one seriously, at least on paper.

Grudgingly, he admitted that it was partially his fault. If he had listened to them first, then filled out the paperwork and kicked it upstairs, he would have realized that it was totally absurd and he could have just got them to admit it was a prank. That would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Instead, he had to go through the whole process, then explain it to the FBI. And the FBI just loved metro police that screwed up at their expense.

On the other hand, it would soon be the FBI's problem, so maybe the joke was on them.

He picked up his pen again, briefly scowling at the absolutely serious notes on the paper in front of him. "So, you come from a world full of soulless monsters trying to kill you, with specialized fighters called Hunters who use transforming weapons and something called Aura to fight them?"

Jaune Arc nodded, happy that the police officer was getting what they were saying. "That's right!"

"Semblances!" Nora reminded them.

"That's people shooting fireballs out of their hands, right?" Coleman didn't recall if they had mentioned that specifically, but it seemed in line with what the pranksters had said. He still had the niggling suspicion that they were reciting some TV show verbatim, but he had no idea what.

"Some people have that Semblance," Jaune replied. "It's always different... right?" He received a nod from his partner. "Yeah. There's this one girl I know who goes really fast and leaves rose petals everywhere."

"Does this girl have a name?" Coleman asked mirthlessly. Better dig in with the questions and watch the story fall apart.

"Ruby Rose, leader of Team RWBY," Jaune answered without skipping a beat.

"Right, your school, Beacon Academy, is organized into teams." Which, on the whole, didn't make a lot of sense to the police officer, sounding more like a bad movie plot than a plausible reality. "And it's some kind of combat school for those people who hunt those monsters."

"Uh-huh."

"And you had no knowledge of Earth until you went after a terrorist organization, broke their interdimensional transporting machine, and then suddenly ended up here." There was a strong tone of incredulity in his voice, which he felt that blonde idiot that was supposedly the leader of the group didn't pick up.

"Well, we don't know that's what it did, but yeah."

"So, you're saying that Cinder Fall, a terrorist without a cause, may have followed you through and might be plotting an attack against this country right now?"

"Yeah." Jaune paused, then asked quietly. "You don't believe us, do you? You're not going to do anything, are you?"

"Did your really expect me to believe any of that?" Coleman asked, trying very hard to keep the venom in his voice. "This sounds like a stupid prank by some dumb kids that will probably land them in jail. And if you would have admitted that a lot sooner, you'd probably be out of here with a slap on the wrist by now. But you dropped the word _terrorist_ , and we have to take that seriously in DC. I did this by the book, which means calling the Feds, and they don't think this kind of prank is funny."

Jaune gulped. This was not going even half as well as he'd hoped.

* * *

"RWBY says it's them," the secretary said to his boss, handing him a sheet of paper. "Unanimously and with a high degree of certainty."

Iverson scanned the page briefly before crumpling it up and tossing it into the garbage. He forced himself to contain his excitement. Although it was pretty clear confirmation, it was not absolute confirmation. Only an actual debrief was true confirmation. They could still be wrong about this group, and in fact they had made it to this stage before.

But only once.

If it really was JNPR this time, that could mean a great many things. It meant that the four teenagers in their care were no longer the only ones of their kind on this world. It meant that travel between the worlds was repeatable and more than a one-time fluke. It might be a deliberate, controllable action by some faction on Remnant. Hopefully, the new arrivals would have information of their own- perhaps they were event sent to meet and retrieve their fellow students.

It could also mean a lot of bad things. Perhaps the new arrivals also retained no memory of how they got there, ended up on Earth by accident, or simply had no useful information to share. Perhaps they were not the only ones to arrive on Earth, and the others were not so friendly. Or, perhaps, they were simply very lost and confused and liable to cause a massive ruckus in one of the most important cities in the world.

In any case, it was imperative that they be located immediately. Iverson immediately headed to his office, which had a secure phone, and called the Gemstone office in Washington.

* * *

"You're sure?" Supervisory Special Agent Michael O'Reilly asked again. Even though he knew it was a possibility, he certainly hadn't expected that kind of news when he'd rolled out of bed that morning.

"We've only had one other situation with this level of confirmation," Iverson's voice confirmed.

"That one was real tricky." O'Reilly nodded habitually, even though he knew the man on the other side of the continent couldn't see the motion. "Okay. We'll start the search immediately."

"Keep me informed." The line went dead.

The first thing O'Reilly did was call his superior, the National Security Advisor. Very quickly, he filled her in on the situation.

"Christ, they're right in our backyard," she commented, processing the information in her brain. "Recommendations?"

"I recommend you declare Blue Ruin." The lowest of the so-called "Ruin Codes", Blue Ruin meant that there was a probable non-hostile Remnan presence on Earth. It was more an advisory than anything, with little specific meaning. There were supposed to be plans that went with it, but they didn't know enough to write them yet.

"Already done," she replied curtly. "Find them and keep me informed."

After his superior hung up, the agent stepped out of his office into the bullpen of Gemstone's Washington office. "Okay, we have a confirmed sighting of JNPR here in DC. Last sighted near the National Mall. Highest possible level of confirmation and our boss has declared Ruin Blue. We need to find them."

He strode to the left side of the room. "Vince, CIA, get them on the lookout. Mike, NSA. Ricardo, Homeland on the line now. You all know what to do."

Passing a confused-looking Japanese man, he told him, "Not much you can do here, Mister Ishikawa. Just watch closely, you never know if this is going to happen in your country too."

Leaving the Japanese liason with his thoughts, O'Reilly continued around the room, waving at a group of agents and analysts at their desks. "Craigslist, Reddit, forums, the local goddamn classifieds. Step it up. You guys, local law enforcement. See if anyone's seen them."

He turned around, looking for one of his fellow FBI agents. "Todd- where the hell is Todd?"

"He's at the FBI headquarters," one of the analysts, a young woman whose name escaped him, answered. "Do you want him back here?"

O'Reilly considered it for a moment. He shook his head. "No, but get him filled in ASAP. He can do more over there."

"Yes, sir." The analyst rolled back to her desk and got on the phone immediately.

Satisfied that all the tasks were properly delegated, he headed back up toward his office. In truth, the Gemstone crew was the cream of the crop and the office practically ran itself. His own task was to call up his old boss and bring the most powerful law-enforcement agency in the United States to bear on his problem.

* * *

Pyrrha gulped instinctively when a very-serious man in a grey shirt charged into the room. While not violent, his movements were quick and jerky, signalling a strong sense of annoyance. A leather briefcase was clutched tightly in the man's left hand, and there was an odd bump in his jacket- possibly a weapon.

Her partner, the leader of Team JNPR, had the same bad feeling. "Uh-oh."

"Good morning. I'm Special Agent Desmond Bresnahan, Federal Bureau of Investigation." His tone of voice made it clear that it would not be a good morning for anyone involved.

Nora seemed to be oblivious to the tension in the room. "Are you going to handle the terrorists, Mister Special Agent?"

"I'm going to lay this out for you," the agent said tersely, ignoring the girl for the moment. "What you did is not a joke. It is a federal felony. You will be charged, and you will find yourself in court. Depending on your record and your defence, your sentence may range from community service and probation to fines and even jail time."

"What? But we're not the terrorists!" Jaune protested. They'd managed to talk to the authorities, and they were the ones in trouble. It was ridiculous, yet made perfect sense.

Agent Bresnahan opened his briefcase and tossed a handful of pictures on the table. "There are no terrorists and we know it. The story you gave was absurd to begin with and an Internet search only proved our suspicions."

"Is that Ruby?" Nora asked, picking up one of the pictures and squinting at it?

"Ruby Rose, main character of the RWBY anime. Believe it or not, the FBI is not above using Google." He sighed. "Kid, I don't know if you're delusional or just stupid."

"Ruby has a show here?" Jaune asked, momentarily forgetting the seriousness of his situation. "Did they come here and get famous."

"They're _fictional characters_ ," Bresnahan reminded them. "As are the people you are pretending to be. I should remind you that depending on what you do, that can also be construed as a number of misdemeanours or even felonies."

"I don't understand," the blonde boy asked, trying to comprehend his situation. "We're not real? But we're here!"

"I need to know who you _really_ are and why you _really_ did this. Save the act for the-" Brenahan was cut off by his cellphone suddenly ringing. "Excuse me. We're not done here." He left the room, making sure his briefcase was locked before shutting the door behind himself.

"So, Ruby is in some kind of animation here, and so are we. But we're real, right? We didn't just hit our heads and start thinking we're our own childhood heroes, right?" Jaune said ponderously, flipping through the pictures. He tossed them on the table. "You know what, it doesn't matter. We're on this weird planet, about to get arrested, and... yeah, we're screwed."

"Jaune," Ren reassured him. "There is a way out. If they believe we are fictional, we must convince them we are not."

"And how do we do that?" Jaune asked.

"In a world with no Semblances," Pyrrha said, reaching out with right hand and her own Semblance, "I am no longer the Invincible Girl, but the Impossible Girl." A thin smile crossed her face as a gold pen left by the FBI agent began levitating in the air.

"Of course!" Jaune exclaimed. "That's brilliant. We'll just-"

The door slammed open, and the look on Brenahan's face was one of forced, false calm. He jerkily shoved his cellphone back into his breast pocket. Pyrrha's concentration broken, the pen clattered to the floor. The angry agent didn't even notice.

"I've just been ordered to take you to an FBI safehouse," Bresnahan explained tersely. "They wouldn't tell me why, and they told me to treat you as witnesses instead of criminals." He shoved the pictures back into his briefcase. "Follow me."

* * *

"Sir, we found them," Castello's voice buzzed through the phone.

O'Reilly released a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. He immediately asked, "Where?"

"They were at a police station on the Potomac," the agent replied. "The FBI is handling it. They'll be in one of their safehouses within the hour."

"Hmm." O'Reilly paused in thought. He would have preferred them at one of their own safehouses- but then again, they didn't actually _have_ any in Washington. "Okay, that's fine. Send over the location and we'll meet them there."

"Okay. What do you want me to do?"

He considered that for a moment. "Just stay put and coordinate with the FBI." He paused again, thinking about if this really was the team they were looking for. They wouldn't know until they actually talked to them, but they could get some clues... "What did they get arrested for?"

"One sec." He could hear the faint buzz of conversation from the other end, but he couldn't tell what they were actually saying. A few seconds later, the other agent came back on the phone, his voice now quick and barely controlled. " _False_ terror threats. They spun a story about coming through to an alternate dimension because of some machine- I think the cop who did the interview added some of this. But... Cinder and her group, possibly coming in behind them, and possibly planning an attack on the city."

"Oh shit." O'Reilly's blood ran cold, and the mood instantly went from one of satisfaction to one of trepidation. "Okay, you let them know about the terror threat. Just give them physical descriptions for now, and tell them it's legit. I'm going to call our boss."

"Right." Without anything else to say, Castello hung up.

O'Reilly stepped out of his office and was immediately accosted by Dr. Ryan, who had just arrived and was in the process of removing his coat. He asked lightly, "What did I miss?"

The answer was anything but light. "We found JNPR, arrested for trying to sell Cinder and company as a legitimate terrorist threat."

"You think it's real?"

"Does it matter?"

"No." It was incredibly unlikely, but so was everything else about their job. They couldn't afford to ignore the threat on the fairly likely (as much sense as that made) chance it was real. "Jesus Christ."

"No shit. You know what to do, I've got to kick this upstairs."

"Okay."

Knowing that his CIA counterpart could do what was needed, O'Reilly headed back into his office. He picked up his secure phone and dialled the National Security Advisor. This wasn't her normal line, but one used for secure, high-priority communications that could not wait.

"This is the National Security Advisor." The reply was curt; he had no doubt interrupted an important meeting.

"This is O'Reilly from the Gemstone office. We have an update on our friends."

"Okay. Are they real or not?"

"We haven't confirmed that yet; they're currently en route to an FBI safehouse for debriefing," he answered honestly. "However, they were arrested on charges of making terror threats. They believe that Cinder Fall and her associates have also arrived with them."

"Holy shit," the National Security Advisor breathed. "Okay, no chances. I'm declaring Orange Ruin."

Orange Ruin was the middle alert level for a possible hostile Remnan presence on Earth. It was above Yellow Ruin, which did not require immediate action, and below Red Ruin, which warranted an immediate response. Orange Ruin meant a probable present and warranted a _discretionary_ response, one not as strong or immediate as if Red Ruin had been declared.

"Anything you need us to do?" O'Reilly asked.

"Yes. Find out what's going on."


	5. Clear and Present Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emergence has come a long way since its humble beginnings. I've gone from writing average young adults to depicting the most powerful people in the world.
> 
> I know that there's still an awful lot of talking in a fic that was supposed to have more stuff going on. I think I really only had about five chapters of content for Act I and had to stretch it a bit, which slowed things down considerably. But Act II will have more action, including some (hopefully) awesome fight scenes. It should be just about right for six chapters. Act III... might actually be too long. We'll see. In retrospect, six chapters at 3000 words each per arc was probably a mistake.
> 
> I did cut and rework a bunch of stuff and try to streamline this chapter, though.

The National Security Advisor took a deep breath before opening the door and returning to the meeting room. Some of the most powerful men and women in the world stared back at her. It was intimidating, but she was used to it. Dealing with these people and trying to make them understand critical issues was her job.

She addressed two of them in particular. "Mister President, Mister Secretary, Orange Ruin."

That immediately silenced the room. The Secretary of Defense was the first to speak. "What kind of threat?"

She hesitated, unsure of who in the room was actually cleared for Gemstone.

The President resolved her conflict. "Go on. Everyone here is either cleared or will be."

"There's a possibility that Cinder Fall and other members of her faction are in DC," the National Security Advisor stated. "Team JNPR came through some time this morning. We haven't been able to fully debrief them yet, but they went to the police to warn us of this terror threat."

SecDef stood immediately, realizing the gravity of the situation. "Mister President, they could strike at the heart of our nation and cripple us from the top. We have to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Do you think that's what they're going to do?" the President asked. "Attack us without provocation?"

"I don't know enough about them to make that call," he replied honestly. "Susan?"

"It's a possibility," the National Security Advisor stated. "Cinder Fall is an anarchist and possibly mentally unstable and may carry out an attack on her own. Or she may have been sent through with a mission against us."

"Fucking perfect. We can't risk it," he replied. "You don't want to be wrong about this, sir. I recommend we move to the National Airborne Operations Center immediately."

"Are you saying a few terrorists are at the level of a nuclear war?" SecTreas interrupted. Unlike many of the others, he had no knowledge of Gemstone.

"It could be, sir," the National Security Advisor countered. "Additionally, we don't know who's really coming in behind them."

"Is this an invasion or an attack?"

"Could be both, could be neither."

One of the other Secretaries interrupted, "Great, we don't even know what the fuck is happening! Are you telling me this could be nothing or the end of the world?"

Her response was dry. "Unfortunately."

The President took a moment to consider his options. The entire situation was absurd, but he had to take it seriously. It was real, and the continued existence of his nation could be on the line. "Okay. Operational plan is the same as a strategic exercise." He paused. "That's what we'll call this. A strategic readiness exercise."

"The Russians aren't going to like that," SecState reminded him.

"The Russians will just have to deal with it. i'd rather not, but I'll fill Vlad in if it comes to it," the President replied, a Secret Service agent already escorting him out the door. "John, Chuck, Jeh, with me. Joe, can you hold down the fort?"

The Vice President nodded, continuing to follow the group. "I've got it."

"Good. Hopefully we'll be able to take care of this quickly and get everything back to normal." The President's optimism was shaky and he knew it. They had no idea what alien terrorists with soul magic could do in the American capital, nor what would happen next. Was it a random event, or were they the vanguard of an invasion?

"Jesus Christ, it's not gonna be Independence Day, is it?" one of the makeshift entourage asked. They were headed for the helicopter on the south lawn, a specialized Blackhawk variant known colloquially as the Whitehawk.

"God, I hope not," the President replied. He could already here the Whitehawk's engines spooling up outside. It would take them to Andrews Air Force Base, where they would board the so-called Doomsday Plane.

Needless to say, the President hoped it wouldn't come to that.

* * *

FBI agent Desmond Bresnahan was not-so-blissfully ignorant of the drama unfolding in the White House only a few miles away. He was frustrated, annoyed, and confused with his current assignment. In his charge were four teenagers that looked like comic book characters and claimed to be interdimensional travellers. His superiors at the FBI headquarters were telling him to treat them as witnesses and bring them to a secure location. They'd hinted that it had something to do with an intelligence operation, but of course refused to tell him more. And he had no idea how any of it fit together that didn't involve aliens.

"We're here," he announced to the passengers crammed into his government-provided car. He forced himself to remain professional, although there was an edge to his voice. "Follow me, please."

The safehouse was located on the edge of Georgetown, set back a fair distance from the Potomac River. It wasn't a literal safehouse, rather a block of secure apartments in the middle of a block. The location wasn't one he was familiar with, but he had received instructions on the way in. He punched in the code he had been given and the front door clicked open.

"Is this an apartment block?" the blonde-haired boy asked. Bresnahan noted that although the others had fancy-looking and fairly realistic outfits, the blonde's looked completely half-assed. The boy was wearing a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers with odd looking armour clasped over top.

"It is," he replied, voice neutral. He glanced at the sign in front of him before turning right, toward the staircase. "Second floor."

Another agent was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. Bresnahan didn't recognize him, but the ID in his hand and the fact he was waiting made his identity clear enough. He nodded at Bresnahan. "I'll take it from here. Thank you, Special Agent Bresnahan."

"Can you tell me what's going on?" he asked immediately as the teenagers shuffled awkwardly toward the other man.

The other agent smiled thinly. "I could, but then I'd have to kill you. You'll be told what you need to know. I know you don't like it, but-"

Bresnahan cut him off. "Yeah, I know. Don't ask questions." He turned to leave. "Good day, sir."

Michael O'Reilly let out a deep sigh as he watched Bresnahan disappear down the stairwell. Fishing in his pockets with one hand, he waved the confused teenagers forward toward one of the apartments with the other. "Come with me, please."

"This is weird," he heard one of the girls- probably Nora- whisper. In one smooth motion, he inserted his keycard into the lock and pulled it out. The lock snapped open, and he twisted the handle and opened the door.

The apartment itself was nothing special, opening into a small kitchen with dining area and slightly larger living room. A short hallway led to a few bedrooms and the sole bathroom. It wasn't a new apartment, but it was kept in good condition with nothing broken or out of place. Significantly, it was nearly spotless except for a thin layer of dust- barely lived in. Although he couldn't see it, he was sure there was additional security equipment and supplies that wouldn't be normal for an apartment.

JNPR strode into the apartment, standing awkwardly around. O'Reilly motioned them to the couch, closing the door behind him.

"What's going on?" the blonde-haired young man- O'Reilly already knew his name was Jaune Arc- asked.

"You're in an FBI safehouse," the agent answered. "Although if you are who you say you are, that won't mean anything to you."

"You believe us?" Jaune asked.

"Pyrrha, catch. Don't be afraid to use your Semblance." O'Reilly removed a pen from his pocket and tossed it parallel to the girl, too far for her to reach. He noticed her flick her wrist briefly before the pen arced in the air into her hand.

"Nobody else on this planet can do that. So for the time being, yes," he answered carefully. "Welcome to Earth. My name is Michael O'Reilly- call me Mike. I'm a Supervisory Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation- that's sort of our country's national police force."

"Your country is the United States of America?" Ren asked.

He nodded, taken off guard by their knowledge. Of course, it wouldn't be that hard to figure out. It was the capital, after all. "That's right. Now, I already have an idea, but I'd like to hear it from you. Who are you and where are you from?"

"I'm Jaune Arc," the blonde knight answered. He pointed to the members of his team. "That's my partner, Pyrrha Nikos. And that's Lie Ren and his partner, Nora Valkyrie. We're from a place called Remnant, which is another planet I guess."

"Team JNPR of Signal Academy?" O'Reilly knew that they were from Beacon, but if they weren't who they said they were, they might react differently to his deliberate error.

"Beacon Academy," Pyrrha corrected without missing a beat.

He nodded. "Of course."

Jaune was suspicious. "Supervisory Special- Mike, how do you know about us?"

Nora asked, "Are we really in some kind of animated show?"

"It's a very long story," he answered carefully. They had to have this discussion some time, but it needed to wait. Half-truths were his best friend. "But suffice it to say that you aren't the first ones from your world to come here. I'm actually attached to a special task force formed specifically to deal with this sort of thing."

The four members of Team JNPR shared a look. The FBI agent suspected they were thinking about the same people he was, but he couldn't afford to distract them right now. Dismissively, he told them, "I promise you we will explain everything to the best of our ability. But right now, we need to know what you know about Cinder Fall."

Jaune scratched the back of his neck. "Well, that's kind of a long story, too."

* * *

Air Force One was technically only a callsign referring to a USAF aircraft carrying the President. Usually, this was the VC-25, a specially modified Boeing 747-200B airliner. Modifications include additional communications equipment, an aerial refuelling receptacle, missile jamming equipment, and allegedly an escape pod. The interior layout was totally changed, incorporating a special cabin for the President, an office in the sky, and seating for the various government functionaries and press that followed the President.

The VC-25 was not the Doomsday Plane.

That nickname belonged to the E-4, also known semi-officially as Nightwatch. It was also a modified Boeing 747, but the similarities stopped there. The E-4 was designed to be a flying operations room in the sky from which the President and his staff could maintain command and control over the American armed forces in any situation, up to and including nuclear war.

Near the front of the aircraft was a conference room, currently occupied by the President, a smattering of Cabinet secretaries, the National Security Advisor, and a few senior military officers. Designed to seat nine people comfortably, the room was packed.

The staff aboard had begun their task of controlling the crisis before the huge aircraft had even taken off. The aircraft's communications equipment could relay messages sent through the Washington-Moscow hotline, which went active almost immediately. The Russians sent a boilerplate letter decrying American provocation, and the President sent a boilerplate letter of apology back. The back-and-forth seemed like an absurd throwback to the Cold War to everyone involved.

Soon, initial notes from JNPR's debriefing came from Gemstone. A communications technician printed the electronic message, made several copies with the photocopiers near the back of the plane, then silently distributed them to the officials who would make the decisions.

The Secretary of Defense immediately noticed an inconsistency. "So it's been a semester since RWBY disappeared, from their point of view. How long is a Remnan semester?"

The National Security Advisor had the answer. "Four or five months. Same as ours."

"It's been longer than that," he pointed out.

She worded her response carefully. "We do not know how this interdimensional travel works. It's possible that time doesn't flow at the same rate hear and there. Even the physicists only have theories. Note that RWBY left at once, but came through at even intervals and retained no memories of the event, but JNPR came through all in one go and do retains memories of the event."

"Which is another inconsistency. These teenagers are saying they chased terrorists across half a planet, then ended up here, by, and I quote, 'sticking my sword into some kind of Dust energy thing'," one of the top generals in the Air Force said skeptically. "Forgive me if I think it's a little hard to believe."

"Paul, the entire situation is hard to believe, but that's the reality we now live in," the President interrupted quietly, yet firmly. "Gemstone has confirmed that they are the real deal, and they have no reason to lie. They took a considerable risk trying to inform us of this threat. We must take it seriously. Now, how do we find them?"

"Well, if they really shoot fireballs and that sort of thing, they'll reveal themselves when they attack," SecState noted.

"Jesus Christ, John, that's exactly what we're trying to prevent!" SecDef snapped. "We need to find them first."

"What I'm saying is that they'll stand out in a crowd," he retorted, partially in an attempt to save face.

"But will anyone report it?" the Secretary of Homeland Security pointed out. "We need our own agencies watching."

"They're already watching," the National Security Advisor reminded him.

"Only at the highest levels," he countered. "We'll only know about it if it gets kicked upstairs. We had a terrorist threat this time, but if the bad guys are trying to stay hidden, we might not hear anything about them."

"Hiding on an alien planet?"

"You can get away with a lot without people noticing, even in DC." The Secretary of Defense turned to the President. "Sir, I agree with Johnson. If we want to find these people, we need to make it a real counterterror operation."

"What's our cover story for this?" the President asked.

The National Security Advisor paused, then shook her head. "We didn't think of this one, sir. Only an immediate attack or a quiet search."

"How could you miss that?"

"It was our assumption that an event big enough to require evacuating key parts of the government would not involve continued secrecy," She turned to her absolute superior. "You're not willing to go that far, are you, sir?"

"I'd prefer not to," the President replied. He exhaled slowly. "If it was a confirmed threat, I would have no hesitation. But they may never appear. Cinder Fall and her minions could have been sucked into a black hole for all we know." He looked up. "I need options, damn it."

"Well, why not just say they're some kind of anarchists disguising themselves as these characters," SecState suggested. "Just like those hackers with the V For Vendetta masks."

"You think it'll work?"

SecDef and SecHomeland shared a look. "That's your option, sir."

"Any other ideas?"

"Give up on secrecy or ignore a known threat," the General replied.

"Those aren't options. How do we do this?"

"Counterterror operation. We'll inform key members of local and federal law enforcement operating DC, as well as intelligence assets," the Secretary of Homeland Security immediately replied. "That also keeps it somewhat lower-key, we don't want to tip off our marks, do we?"

The President nodded before asking the Secretary of Defense for his opinion. "Chuck, what do you think?"

"It lets us get a lot more exposure with minimal risks," he replied. "The cover story makes more sense than the reality. Let the conspiracy theorists conspire; nobody will believe them."

"Good," The President said, giving it a final mental once-over. "Give it a name and get on it. If they're here, I want them found."

* * *

Special Agent Todd Costello hung up his cellphone, took a deep breath, and stepped into the office of the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. It wasn't every day that a relatively junior Special Agent spoke to the Director, but today was hardly a normal day to begin with.

"What did Gemstone say?" the Director asked, all business. Costello noticed that he was flanked by two agents that weren't in the room before.

"They said it's probable, but not certain," Costello answered. "And extremely dangerous if they're really here."

The Director suppressed a laugh. "The President agrees. You just missed it, but they're going full-panic mode. These costumed weirdos may not look like a threat, but they want them found." The Director was cleared for and knew exactly what they were dealing with, but his phrasing implied that the other agents in the room weren't.

"If they are here," Costello clarified. "We don't know that yet."

"Respectfully, sir, this is a woman in an anime costume and maybe four other people, all that look more like stupid nerds than real terrorists," one of the agents objected. "Are they really that dangerous?"

"In short, yes."

"So, why haven't we heard of them?"

Costello chose his words carefully. "They're not exactly a new group, but that's classified."

"Classified? What the hell is Gemstone, anyway?" another agent asked.

The Director answered this time. "A name you've never heard, Special Agent."

* * *

With a quiet thud, a thin stack of papers landed on Fred Coleman's desk. As she passed by, the officer who delivered it announced what it was. "Today's usual paperwork bullshit and a weird as fuck APB."

He took a brief look through the various forms- just routine paperwork, nothing special- before moving on to the all-points bulletin. Also known as a BOLO- Be On LookOut- an all-points bulletin was an alert to the personnel of a law-enforcement agency or another law-enforcement agency that contained information about a suspect of person of interest.

This one, however, was odd. The picture was only a drawing- that was unusual, but not unheard of- that matched the description of Cinder Fall, one of the supposed terrorists the teenage pranksters had told him about. The all-points bulletin noted that the woman "may be disguised as the character known as Cinder Fall" and "may use Cinder Fall as her identity."

Several possible associates were listed. One was an orange-haired man who he identified by name before reading it- Roman Torchwick. Or, rather, someone going by that name and appearance. The other three weren't named by the teenagers, but were described. The short lady with heterochromia: Neopolitan. The green-haired, red-eyed girl: Emerald Sustrai. The young man in grey: Mercury Black.

The thought briefly crossed his mind that the kids had been telling the truth, that they were really from another dimension. Which, according to the FBI agent, was a cartoon. That the government was covering up what the threat really was, keeping some secret about aliens on Earth. But that was the kind of insane theory the aliens guy on TV would come up with, not someone sane and rational such as himself.

Instead, he chalked it up- not completely incorrectly- to something else.

"Fuckin' spooks."


	6. The Hunt Is On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The format of this chapter may be a little weird. This is one case where the new format turned out to be more of a curse than a blessing. I think the pacing is also a bit messed up. I thought I didn't have enough content for six chapters, but I probably did if it was arranged better.
> 
> The big challenge I had was to depict the passage of time without explicit or flow-breaking timeskips. I think it could have been done better.
> 
> I know it's a bit rough overall, but I wanted to wrap this arc up before the end of the month. After this, you can expect an interlude or two, then Part 2: The Intruders some time in November.

Hours after the initial orders had been sent, the President's plane was still a flurry of activity. With the first parts of the plan in place, the focus turned to operational considerations and long-term plans. It was a bad situation and they'd only begun to solve it.

"What if people start asking questions?" the Secretary of State mentioned to the occupants of the conference room, now slightly less packed than it had been when the crisis had begun.

"You don't think they'll actually believe we have aliens on Earth, do you?" the Secretary of the Treasury asked. He'd only been briefed today, and had at best a tenuous grasp of the situation. Still, he was a smart man and was starting to understand the situation. "Nobody's that stupid. Or that smart."

"That's not what I'm worried about, Jack. What if people start asking questions about the competency of this government?"

"Then, sirs, we call it an exercise," the Air Force general suggested, walking in with a steaming hot mug of coffee in his hand. "I've read everything Gemstone gave me. My professional opinion is that we're in a bad way, after I got over how insane this all is."

"An exercise?" SecState asked. "Why didn't we just do that to begin with?"

"If I may be frank, Mister Secretary, because it did not occur to anyone in the room," he replied carefully. "But, then again, if I may be frank, nobody would take the situation seriously if it were an exercise anyway. It would likely be dismissed as nothing more than an absurd fantasy, planning for an impossible situation."

"So what _do_ we do when we find them?" the President interrupted, walking in with the National Security Advisor in tow.

"Paul, did you take a look at what I gave you?" she asked the General, receiving a nod in reply. "What's your opinion?"

"If I may speak freely, it scares the shit out of me. We're not dealing with human targets so much as hard-skinned killing machines with the mobility of humans. Our best bet is a precision strike using Hellfire missiles from Reaper drones."

"A drone strike in Washington?" SecTreas interrupted. "General, are you out of your fucking mind?"

"If we were at war, our response to a threat of this magnitude would be to level the entire block," SecDef argued, glancing at the general and receiving a nod in reply.

"You can't be serious!" SecState objected.

"Think about the collateral damage!" SecTreas continued. "And what the hell are people going to think about a drone strike in our goddamn capital?"

"Sir, however much damage you think these people can do, I guarantee you that it's worse," the National Security Advisor interrupted, concurring with her superior. "The consequences of a limited strike within our own capital are minute compared to allowing these people to run free."

"Mister President-"

He held up his hand, silencing the room. "I want alternatives, ones more tolerable to the populace. Preferably humans in the loop."

"We can use manned Air Force assets to carry out the same mission," the General suggested. "The Air National Guard might be preferable for political and legal reasons. I believe both the DC and Maryland ANG have the appropriate equipment."

"Why can't the Army handle it?" the Secretary of the Treasury asked. "Send in the soldiers, take them down up close and personal. I'm sure it's nothing they can't handle, and it'll reduce collateral damage."

The National Security Advisor hid her irritation at the clueless Secretary. "Sir, these people can punch through concrete walls without a scratch, cross buildings in a single bound, and toss vehicles aside like wet paper. Nothing short of anti-tank weapons is going to touch them. A missile strike _is_ the option that minimized collateral damage."

"I take it a diplomatic solution is not an option?" SecState asked, though his tone signalled he already knew the answer.

"Unless everything we know about them is wrong- which _is_ possible- not with these people. These are not state actors, they are dangerous terrorists and criminals with an unknown but almost certainly malicious intent."

"Well, we do have our visitors-"

The Secretary of Defense cut off his Homeland counterpart. " _If_ they can beat Cinder, _if_ they're willing to help us, _if_ we can get them in the right place at the right time. And if they fail, we end up with eight dead alien kids."

This was something SecState understood. He shook his head. "It's untenable politically. We can't let them fight our fight."

"Our fight? It's their fucking fight to begin with!"

"They fuck up Washington, it's our fight."

The President held up a hand, silently pondering before making his decision. "Okay, I want to activate the Air National Guard, have them carry out the mission if necessary. Are they willing to do it, General?"

"They won't like dropping bombs on DC, but once we tell them, they'll do it," he acknowledged. "With that being said, sir, I recommend we call it a readiness exercise for now, and brief the pilots when it is necessary to do so."

"If this really happens, that's going to be the least of our concerns," SecDef muttered.

"What if they don't show up?" SecTreas objected. "I feel like we're on the brink of nuclear war. We can't stay at this level forever."

She answered, "I recommend degrading to Yellow Ruin, keeping a heightened state of alert and ensuring the designated survivors are always separated from Washington."

SecDef didn't have much more to say. "I agree with Susan."

The Presdent nodded. "We'll wait a while longer. In the meantime, I want to start thinking about what we're going to do if this does blow up. We're going to have to explain why there was a battle in the heart of our nation. I want more intelligence from our visitors and contingency plans for every eventuality. Get to it."

* * *

"Well, the President's been evacuated and our military commanders are drawing up plans to deal with your terrorists," Michael O'Reilly assured the dimensionally displaced teenagers in his care. To say it had been one hell of a day would be an understatement. "I doubt they have a perfect plan- we couldn't come up with one when we tried."

"You've been planning for this?"

His response was careful. "We've been preparing for this possibility."

"You mentioned that we were not the first ones here," Ren reminded. "That you had an explanation for why we were recognized as fictional characters."

"I suppose I'm going to have to explain this sooner or later," O'Reilly admitted. "Might as well get it done and over with. Okay, this is going to sound insane, so just bear with me."

"Okay."

"Let's start at the beginning. You're from an animated show. That is, the world where you come from exists in fiction here," he began. "The weird part is-"

"Does that mean we're not real-"

"No." He shook his head. Best to nip that one in the bud, even if the real answer was a lot more deeply philosophical than his own. "Our scientific understanding is that everything that could possibly be- including all of our fiction-exists in some parallel universe. Somehow, you've travelled from one of those realities to our own."

"That sounds like a future fiction comic," Jaune commented.

"We call it science fiction, and it does, but you're living proof that it's real," he concurred. "You said you didn't know what that machine did, right?"

"Sorry, I have no idea."

"Well, we can speculate later. Anyway, as I said earlier, you're not the first ones to arrive." He pulled out his phone, found the picture he was looking for, and showed it to them. "Recognize them?"

"That's Team RWBY!" Nora exclaimed immediately. "They're alive?"

"Alive and well," O'Reilly confirmed. "They started arriving about ten months ago. Ruby was the first to show up, followed by Weiss two weeks later, then Blake, then Yang. What's got us confused is that they showed up one by one all over the world and you showed up all at once in the same place."

"Well, maybe they didn't arrive the same way," Nora postulated. "Did you ask them?"

"We did. None of them remember how they got here or the events leading up to it- another difference."

"So, what do we do now?" Jaune asked.

"Now?" O'Reilly sighed. "We wait."

* * *

The mid-sized business jet sat on the tarmac, three engines slowly turning as its passengers climbed aboard. The exterior was relatively nondescript, with a thick red and narrow blue stripe and no identifying markings. Anyone who looked into its registration would find it belonged to a small avaition holdings company and was on lease to a charter company that provided service to familiar but forgettable clients. In fact, the jet was owned by the United States government, operated by the CIA, and semi-permanently attached to Gemstone.

"I'm so excited!" Ruby Rose gushed as she plunked herself down into a big, comfy seat near the front of the aircraft. She tossed her bag, containing Crescent Rose and her combat outfit among other things, carelessly into the aisle beside her. "JNPR is actually here! It's gonna be so great to see our friends again after so long!"

"I hope that moron is smarter than when we left," Weiss grumbled, her mind instantly wandering into the blonde idiot in charge of the other team.

"Maybe he's hooked up with Pyrrha finally," Yang proposed, strapping herself in. "I mean, he can't be _that_ oblivious, can he?"

"Oh yes he can," Weiss muttered.

Ruby turned to their raven-haired teammate, who had been silent up to that point. "You haven't said anything since we left, Blake."

"I'm just worried," the cat faunus admitted. She fidgeted in her seat. "I mean, I know they said we weren't going to there to fight Cinder, but what if that is what they want us to do? Or what if it's Cinder and her friends that don't give us the choice?"

"Then we'll kick her ass!" Yang exclaimed.

Her partner stared straight at her. "Will we, Yang? Those people are above our level. On top of that, we haven't trained, _really trained_ , since we left Remnant."

"Yeah, but we'll have our friends from Earth behind us, right?" Yang suggested hollowly.

"I really hope Cinder isn't here," Ruby said quietly.

They were silent as the jet began speeding down the runway, floating into the air atop slender raked wings toward its destination on the other side of the continent.

* * *

The so-called fusion centers, operated by the Department of Homeland Security, were controversial even within an agency that attracted controversy from its outset. Created to be "primary focal points within the state and local environment for the receipt, analysis, gathering, and sharing of threat-related information", the fusion centers were often dismissed as a waste of money that violated personal freedoms while doing absolutely nothing useful and certainly not accomplishing their actual mission.

Today, the Washington Regional Threat and Analysis Center was abuzz with activity, largely focused on a task it was created to perform. As soon as word had come from above, the widely varied personnel working the center began the process of tracking down and evaluating the new threat.

The whole situation struck senior analyst William Yates as very odd. An unknown terrorist group dressed up as anime characters? In Washington without any sort of warning? It was also timed rather nicely to match up with a strategic exercise that took the President and his staff out of the city. Could there be something very odd, very sinister going on?

He came to exactly the conclusion Gemstone hoped he would.

"Think it's an exercise?" he asked his boss. She shrugged and he went back to his work, treating a fiction as if it were real.

* * *

Supervisory Special Agent Michael O'Reilly reflected silently as he led his charges toward an apartment building in the heart of DC. Despite being dimensionally displaced not-quite-humans from a completely different world, Team RWBY acted a lot like normal teenagers. How much of that was universal, and how much of that was from the year they had spent on Earth? Unlike some other members of Gemstone, he'd spent most of his time in DC and hadn't interacted much with the girls.

"I can't believe we finally get to see JNPR again!" Ruby gushed.

"Calm down, Ruby," Weiss chided. "You're making a scene."

Yang rubbed her eyes tiredly. "What's it called? Jet lag? I think I have that."

"I think you stayed up too late last night," Blake told her partner as they slowly ascended the staircase.

"We now think that Cinder isn't here," O'Reilly told the girls. "They could show up any minute, but we think that's unlikely. We're going to keep on the lookout but pretty soon we'll move to a lower state of readiness."

"So it's safe here?" Ruby asked after pondering what he'd said for a moment.

"For the time being. The bottom line is, don't worry about it." He unlocked the door to the apartment and gently pulled it open. "I'll let you get acquainted again. You have my number if you need me."

With that, he left the four girls to meet their long-lost friends from home.

It had been one thing for JNPR to hear that their friends weren't dead, just transported to this weird world that they were apparently stuck on. It was another completely to actually see them again. They'd tempered their grief with a slim hope for months and now they were standing right in front of them.

For RWBY, it was just as profound, but much different. Seeing their friends again brought home that Remnant really was somewhere out there, that maybe there was a way back, and that they weren't alone anymore.

Before anyone could say anything, Ruby bolted forward and wrapped the two closest members of JNPR- Jaune and Pyrrha- in a bone-crushing hug. "You're heeeeeeeeeere!"

"It's good to see you too, Ruby," Pyrrha replied happily.

Jaune managed something between a gasp and a groan.

"I knew you weren't dead!" Nora shouted, rushing toward the other half of RWBY. Blake managed to get out of the way, and the pink girl crashed straight into Yang's chest, nearly knocking her over.

Blake exchanged a glance with Weiss, who simply shrugged in response.

"Well, this is weird," Jaune remarked after Ruby let him go. He glanced briefly at Weiss.

She immediately noticed and frowned. "Don't bother. I'm with Blake now."

"You're dating?" Pyrrha asked, shocked. It wasn't that they wouldn't be a cute couple- she just couldn't see it working.

"How did that happen?" Jaune asked.

"I'm still fuzzy about how it happened," Blake replied. "But yes, we're together."

Jaune opened his mouth to reply, but didn't get a chance to finish.

"What about you two?" Nora asked. "Did you find weird alien boyfriends?"

"Yep!" Yang answered. "And so did my little sis!"

"Yang!"

"What? It's not a secret or anything."

Ruby rolled her eyes. Eager to change the subject, she asked, "So... what happened when we were gone?"

Jaune answered casually, "Oh, we just chased down some White Fang terrorists all the way to this base outside Atlas, with the help of your-" he pointed at Weiss "-sister. Lots of fighting, lots of explosions, and we thought we were going to die and a bunch of people did die in a White Fang attack. Yeah..."

"Whoa, back up," Yang interrupted. "How did that happen?"

"It began in Vale, when we noticed something odd happening at a bookstore Blake used to frequent- I believe it was called Tukson's. When we investigated, he was mortally wounded, but gave us an address and told us to find you." Pyrrha pointed to Blake.

"But you were already, well, you know," Nora added.

Jaune took over. "Yeah, then we infiltrated some super secret White Fang meeting, me and Pyrrha tried shook up one of Yang's friends, Pyrrha stole a car, there was a big chase and we dropped a highway on a robot."

Pyrrha smacked her boyfriend lightly. "I didn't steal it, I _borrowed_ it."

"That sounds awesome!" Ruby reacted.

"That sounds horrible!" Weiss reacted at exactly the same time.

"When we got our mission, we chose Mountain Glenn, where we heard the White Fang would be," Pyrrha continued. "They had a train and used it to break into the city. We tried to stop it, but..."

"We couldn't do it," Jaune said quietly. "It was... yeah, it was pretty bad."

The room was silent.

Attempting to steer the conversation away from the subject, Weiss asked. "You said it involved my sister? How is she?"

"Rich," Nora answered uselessly. "I think there's a lot of pressure on her, and she was really serious about avenging you, but she's doing okay."

"What happened? What happened?" Ruby asked excitedly. "I mean, the big bad guy lair and stuff."

"Winter said she needed our help breaking down some big conspiracy," Jaune answered. "So we flew up to Atlas, confronted all the bad guys- Torchwick, Cinder, and their minions- at some kind of breeding facility, and then I stuck Crocea Mors in some kind of reactor thing and now we're here."

"So things ended pretty much the same," Blake sighed. "I mean, what happened doesn't sound any better than what should have happened."

"Should have?" Nora asked.

"You believe that because we exist as fiction, the future is predestined," Ren surmised. "Yet from what we have heard this is already different from what was supposedly meant to be."

"Maybe," Blake dodged. "I guess I was just hoping you'd bring better news."

"Things don't always go the way we hope, Blake," Ruby said.

"Hey, we still stopped the bad guys, right?" Jaune reminded them. "Or, you know, at least blew up their base and set them back a bunch."

"I guess."

"Come on, quit being so dark," Yang said, trying to bring the mood in the room up. "We're here now, and this planet isn't _all_ bad."

"I can't believe you're here," Jaune said quietly, still taking it in. "How did you end up here? I mean, we saw the video, but it didn't really explain much."

"What video?" Ruby asked. "Huh, I guess we made that in the time we don't remember."

"How much do you don't remember?" Nora asked. "How _did_ you end up here?"

Yang smirked. "Now _that_ is quite the story."

* * *

"It's been two days," the President said tiredly, entering the conference room for what seemed like the thousandth time. His Presidency had been a tense one with many dangerous situations, but the current one was near the top of the list. "This plane has to land soon and a lot of people are getting really antsy. Why haven't we found our terrorists yet?"

"Maybe they aren't fucking here," the Secretary of State muttered, straightening in his uncomfortable chair.

"That is a possibility, sir," the National Security Advisor admitted. "Although our source believed that the terrorists were coming through, they might not have come through. It may be more like RWBY's situation. We might have to wait a while."

"I know," the Secretary growled. "You told us that two days ago!"

She kept her voice level, though a slight edge showed through. "By a while, sir, I mean it could be weeks, months, even a year. And it may not be here. It could be on the other side of the world."

"Can we focus on the question at hand, please?" the President interrupted. "Susan, how likely is it that we've missed them?"

"Not very likely, Mister President," she replied. "These are in effect aliens on a completely foreign planet. If they tried anything, we would know about it right away. Otherwise, they're very distinctive and with this kind of search we would have spotted them."

"Even if they weren't aliens, we would have found them, or at least known they were here," the Secretary of Homeland Security added. "We have the most effective network in the world."

"So most likely they're not here, and if they are, they're hiding so well we're not going to find them," the President acknowledged. "Either way, we have to do the same thing, do we not?" He looked at the Secretary of Defense. "Chuck?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. We can lower our readiness posture; move the Vice President and Deputy Secretary of Defense and keep some of our assets on standby. And we continue the search. In fact, we may have to expand it."

"This is nuts," the Secretary of State commented suddenly. "I mean, we're running a strategic exercise and a terrorism exercise, boom, just like that, totally unannounced. The people are freaked out, the Russians are freaked out, hell, I'm freaked out."

"It's been a very stressful few days," the President agreed. "With that said, I think we have overestimated the threat. I'd rather overestimate than underestimate, but we weren't prepared. I want a better plan next time, and I want to seriously look at whether the secrecy aspect is worth the risk. And if it's at all possible, I want a way of knowing this is going to happen before it does. I also need a good story to feed to everyone."

There was a chorus of acknowledgement from the men and women in the room.

"But for now, let's get this plane on the ground. The strategic exercise is over. Now we have one hell of a waiting game to look forward to."


	7. Changing Priorities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interlude chapters will follow a very different format from main story ones, though you've probably figured that out by now. There will be three more interlude chapters before the second act. I'm hoping to release Act II alongside Volume 3, but it's doubtful that's going to happen.

**7:** **Changing Priorities**

"Shit just got real," O'Reilly had said over the phone during a conference call.

Though Iverson would not have phrased it that way, he agreed with the sentiment. Over the past week, the atmosphere at Gemstone had shifted drastically. What they dealt with was no longer a tightly guarded secret restricted to the small task force and a few officials, but one with the attention of the highest levels of military, government, and intelligence across half a dozen nations.

"I just got off the phone with the American National Security Advisor," he announced to the two dozen or so personnel in the Vancouver office. "Our mandate has changed. Rather dramatically."

"How so?" one of the men- their RCMP liaison, Iverson recalled- asked.

"Searching for new arrivals is no longer in our purview," he began, confirming the suspicions of many in the room. "It is now coordinated at a higher level, with more direct involvement from the relevant agencies. Similarly, scientific research is now between DARPA and the United States government."

"So, are we getting cut out now?" one of the analysts asked, disappointed. They'd told her Gemstone would be on the front lines, the first to face the unknown, and from what she had heard they had no mission at all.

"No," Iverson replied firmly. "Our mission is now to focus on the ones that are here- Team RWBY and Team JNPR. They are our responsibility. Our superiors want intelligence and possibly assistance from them, and it's our job to provide it."

Another analyst asked, "Well, what does that mean, exactly?"

"We do not know, exactly," he admitted. "Team JNPR still has not been debriefed, and we can probably gain more information from Team RWBY. The National Security Advisor implied, but did not state, that she expected reports of such within a reasonable timeframe."

"What about assistance?" Emma Walker, the sole Australian in the room, asked. "Are we talking lending them to the military for training and evaluation?"

"I believe so," he answered. "We have discussed it in this office, but our plans have been turned over to the United States military and as far as I know also the Canadian and British. They'll be developing tactics and strategies, and I'm sure they want the input of even students from Remnant if nothing else."

"So, where are our visitors now?"

"The teams? In Washington," Iverson answered. "The Washington office figures it would be best for them to stay there for the moment, and I concur."

"How are they doing?" Emma asked quietly.

"As well as could be expected," he replied. "Keeping them on our side is still our top priority. If- when something happens, we want them firmly on our side."

* * *

Cliff smiled as his friends shuffled into the restaurant. After finishing the year, they'd all gone their separate ways, with most of them staying in Vancouver. He didn't see the point, and instead returned to Vancouver Island. Isaac had also come back, but that had less to do with finishing for the year and more to do with getting kicked out from what he had heard.

The bearded young man waved them to an empty booth in the corner. "Hey guys. Guess you did manage to make it out to the Island."

"I'm surprised you went back."

"Yeah, why didn't you stay?"

"Three words," he answered. "Because Vancouver fucking sucks."

"That's four words, Cliff," Ben pointed out.

"Only if you count the _because_. I don't count _because_."

Sam made a show of surveying his surroundings."Hey, why are we in a fucking Pizza Hut, anyway? Was there really nowhere better?"

"This is the Island, we don't have any fancy metropolitan hipster eateries," Cliff countered. "Besides, Pizza Hut is-"

"Hi, are you ready to order?" the waiter interrupted.

They ordered their usual- despite Sam's complaint, it was far from the first time they'd been in the restaurant. During their high school years, the pizza place had been a frequent dinner destination.

"So, I've been thinking of ways of exploiting our unique experiences," Cliff mentioned. "Isaac?"

"We're making a game," Isaac announced. "Or, mostly Cliff is making a game and I'm providing moral support."

"What, is it like the RWBY fighting game?"

"No, it's about a trio of stereotypical nerds- there's a programmer, a weeb, and a token geeky girl who's also black- who suddenly encounter their favourite fictional character and have to travel the world to get them all back home."

"Won't you get sued?" Ben pointed out.

Cliff snapped his fingers. "See, that's the brilliant part. I'm going to file the serial numbers off just enough so that it's obviously a cheap knockoff of RWBY, but isn't actually RWBY."

"What's the point of ripping off something nobody knows about?"

He leaned forward before giving the answer in hushed tones. "How long do you think it's going to be something nobody knows about? Sooner or later, it's going to get out and people are going to want as much RWBY as they can get. That's when we strike."

"That's _fucked_."

"You mean _brilliant_ ," Isaac countered.

Cliff leaned back, crossing his arms. "So, that's what we've been up to. What about you guys?"

"I might make meat manager next month," Ben said. "The job sucks but the pay is good."

Jen shrugged. "Summer school."

Sam was silent. Isaac pushed him, "Did you get a job?"

"Nope," he admitted. "I almost got one at General Paint, but then they got bought up and shut down."

Isaac winced at that. "Ouch."

Ben muttered, "Bullshit."

Sam cracked a smile. "But it's not all bad news." He reached into his jacket and took out an envelope, dumping its contents on the table. "Who wants to go to RTX next month?"

"Okay, how the hell can you afford those when you're unemployed?" Ben asked, eyeing the tickets suspiciously.

"I didn't buy them."

Ben pushed away the tickets. "Called it."

Sam's smirk didn't disappear, but instead grew. "I was _given_ them. Got them in the mail, along with an autographed poster."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Didn't we spend a bunch of their money?" Isaac reminded them. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but shouldn't _we_ be reimbursing _them_?"

There was no opportunity to answer. Their waiter showed up, placing a large pizza, a basket of breadsticks, and a plate of spicy boneless chicken on the table.

"So, have you heard about that fucked-up exercise the Americans had?" Sam mentioned. He took the tickets back and dumped half the boneless chicken on his plate.

"The one that almost made the Russians nuke everyone?" Isaac asked.

Cliff glared at him, pizza comically in one hand. "It wasn't _that_ fucked up."

"I wonder if it has something to do with, well, you know..."

"It wouldn't surprise me either way," Cliff answered. "Maybe someone like Cinder showed up and they chased them down and caught them, any nobody knows. Or maybe they really did just do a strategic exercise at a really bad time."

"What if the bad guys, or even the creatures of Grimm came here?" Isaac asked, tone light but concerned. "What if it really happens?"

"Well, we're not going to fight them like in that shitty fanfic you wrote," Cliff snarked, deflecting the question.

"I hope I'm on the other side of the world," Sam said darkly. After a pause, he reassured, "Relax, guys, it's not gonna happen, and if it does, it'll be taken care of. What we went through was a once only."

Cliff pondered it for a moment, then nodded. He asked, "How are they doing, by the way?"

"I haven't heard from them since last week," Sam responded. "I wonder how they're doing?"

"Eh, I'm sure they're fine."

* * *

"So... what about us?" Jaune asked, interrupting the FBI agent on his cellphone. "I mean, this is great, but we've been stuck here for days."

O'Reilly held up a finger. "...okay, thanks." He hung up and stuffed the phone in his pocket. "They're working on identities for you, but it looks like you're not going to get the same kind of latitude RWBY did, and you're all going to be pretty busy."

"Why not?" Ruby blurted out from the other side of the room, burrito halfway to her mouth.

"Things have changed," he replied carefully. "When you came through, there was no imminent threat. You were our top priority. Now, we have a probable threat that has a lot of people worried, and _that_ is their top priority."

"So what are we going to do?" the blonde asked. "I mean, what do you want us to do?"

"There'll be people asking you questions- people from the government and military. They might want to conduct exercises with you- you may be students but you're the closest thing to combatants from your world that we have."

"Do we _have_ to?" Nora half-asked, half-whined.

"Technically, no, but I don't know what will happen if you refuse." He reassured them, "We're on the same side, here. We both want to stop Cinder if she shows up. You're being given more responsibility than you probably asked for, but I know you're up for it."

"We're up for it," Ruby replied enthusiastically. She crumpled up her burrito wrapper and tossed it into the trash.

"Good." He checked his watch. "I trust you can take care of yourselves?"

He received a few nods before departing. In fact, there was a plainclothes agent outside, and the apartment was well watched. It was an exercise in _building_ trust more than an exercise in trust itself.

Jaune plopped down on the couch beside his partner. "So, now what?"

"I'm bored," Nora complained.

"We're all bored, Nora," Ruby reminded her. She felt a buzz in her pocket and immediately reached in and checked her phone. "Aw, Weiss and Blake got delayed."

"Delayed," Yang joked, putting air quotes around the word. " _Sure_."

"Yaaaaaaang!"

She quickly changed topics. "You guys haven't actually seen the show, have you?"

"We haven't had the chance," Pyrrha answered with a nod.

"It's a really surreal experience," Yang told them. "But you've really got to do it some time, and we've got nothing better to do."

"It was weird..." Ruby quietly concurred. She quickly added, "But fun!"

Jaune shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"It'll be worthwhile," Ren agreed.

"Let's do it!" Nora shouted.

"Okay, we're watching RWBY!" Ruby said excitedly. She picked up her bag and swung it in a wide arc as she dashed toward the TV in the living room.

"Did you remember the HDMI cable?"

Ruby responded by waving the item in the air. She found a free port on the TV and spooled out the cable, pushing the other end into her laptop before moving on to the power cable.

"What's that?" Jaune asked.

"That's my laptop," Ruby replied, booting the machine. "It also flips over into a tablet."

"It looks kind of archaic," Ren commented.

Ruby disagreed. "They're actually really cool. A lot of the tech on Earth is really underassuming, but actually does a lot of stuff. It's boring but practical."

"Huh."

"Just wait until you see their military hardware." Yang snapped her fingers. "We've got to watch Transformers after this."

"Why are you only _now_ thinking of stuff to do?" Pyrrha asked, slightly irritated. "We've been stuck here for days."

Ruby poked her index fingers together. "Well, we kind of got caught up seeing you guys again, then we had to, um, borrow some movies and stuff, and we kind of wanted to surprise you with something really cool that Blake and Weiss are-"

She was cut off by the door being wrenched open.

Yang grinned. "Blakey! Weissy! You're back! Did you get it?"

Blake held up a large bag. "We did. I'd just like to say that I don't want to buy anything on Craigslist again."

The blonde threw her hands into the air. "It's not my fault we don't have enough money to buy an Xbone!"

The faunus girl glared at her. "Actually, it kind of _is_."

"Guys, quiet," Ruby shushed. "We can show them Halo after."

"Oh, you're watching the show?" Weiss observed, noticing the image on the TV. "Well, you're going to find it pretty fucked up. Especially the second volume."

 


	8. Uncovering Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I broke the One Steve Limit. There are two Emmas in this fic. Emma Bowen is a scientist and Emma Walker is Australian.
> 
> Oh, and if you want a challenge and a possible hint: 30.22-98.74

Emma Bowen shook with anxiety as she stepped into the Cabinet Room of the White House. With Remnant now a significant threat, senior officials needed to be briefed on every aspect of the other world, including how it worked (or at least how they thought it did). In truth, she had no idea why she had been given the job- her work was restricted to studying the biology of the Remnans. Perhaps it was her charming personality. Or perhaps her work was seen as less important for the time being.

"Doctor Bowen," the President of the United States, a man she had met but once and even then only briefly, greeted. He motioned for her to sit, thankfully on the other side of the table between a Marine general and a Secretary she didn't recognize. "Please, tell us what you have."

Emma followed the structure of the report, beginning with a brief background on the many-worlds interpretation and how fictional characters existing wasn't just possible but (evidently) certain. It was very simple; the assumption being everyone hearing it would either already understand the science or only needed to know enough to understand the practical implications. She awkwardly transitioned into a disclaimer about so-called magic being science that was simply not yet understood and how they would encounter a lot of it. In retrospect, that probably should have been at the beginning.

The first real scientific topic was Dust. They knew it was crystalline, had tremendous energy density, and how its effects were directly controllable by many means. They did not know its composition, its actual mechanism of action, how it was formed, or where the energy absorbed by Ice Dust went. She admitted that their study had been frustrated by the lack of available samples.

The next topic she could speak more confidently about. Remnans humans were closer to Faunus than Terrans, but still very similar to life on Earth. The Remnan offshoot was distinguished by its durability, strength and consequent high energy intake. An above average Remnan could compete with a peak Terran, a fact that did not sit well with some in the room. The members of Team RWBY were considered good, but not great, yet they were superhuman on Earth. She added that this was discounting Aura, though one of her colleagues had questioned whether Aura and Remnan biology were truly distinct.

They still had no idea how Aura or Semblances worked. She outlined a few leading theories, stressed that the Remnan explanation of "soul magic" was not one they ascribed to, and made it clear to the men and women in the room that this just wasn't a question they could answer yet.

Her coverage of Remnan technology was brief- it wasn't her speciality or even the mission of the team she worked with. They knew that Remnant was ahead in some ways and behind in others, their development shaped by their deadly environment. It was almost schizophrenic, but only from their point of view. They had giant floating airships, but hadn't made it into space. They had developed sentient AI, but their computers were ten years behind Earth. Their weapons were powerful, but hitting something from beyond spitting distance was almost unheard of.

It was her job to deliver information on science and technology, not on society or military capability or anything else. She closed her folder, but did not conclude her report. There was one more thing she wanted to bring up.

"There's something else that we've only discovered recently, which may or may not be related to Remnan biology," Emma added. It wasn't in the official report- the discovery was too recent for that- but it was in her area and she felt that she had to contribute _something_. "In fact, we're still debating whether this is a physiological phenomenon or if it's purely psychological."

The President asked with genuine- or very well feigned- curiosity, "What is it?"

"We're calling it transition shock," she answered confidently. In fact, she'd coined the term herself on the flight to Washington. "We've noticed that everyone who came through so far described confusion and disorientation and a general lack of ability to think clearly. It might be a physiological consequence of the effects of the transition between worlds. Or it might be psychological, a sort of subconscious reaction to a world that's very different in ways that the conscious mind might not realize."

"Very different?" the Secretary of State asked.

She listed off the differences. "A lack of Aura, which Remnans seem to be able to feel to a varying extent. Slight visible differences in structures, in people, in language that may not be obvious unless you're looking for them. More tangible things like the smell of petroleum- something we're very used to but every Remnan so far has complained about."

"Is that what's causing it?" one of the military officers- Emma figured he was an Air Force general, but wasn't sure- in the room asked.

"Well, these are hypothetical causes," Emma answered. "We don't know for sure. Like I said, it might be physical or psychological or a mix of both. We're pretty sure- I'm pretty sure- about the effects, but not the causes."

"Our terrorists just got a lot more dangerous," the general mumbled.

She blinked, confused."Dangerous?"

"I know what you're thinking, Doctor," the general explained. "A confused enemy is easier to defeat. While that's not entirely untrue, a confused enemy is an unpredictable enemy. And an unpredictable enemy is a more dangerous one."

"Sorry," she said meekly.

He shook his head. "Don't be. You've given us the information, that's what matters. It's better to know that now than later."

The President turned, offering a slight nod to the scientist. "Thank you, Doctor. I'll let you know if we need more."

Despite her earlier confidence, she gathered her files and zipped out of the room in record time.

* * *

"Come on!" Jaune shouted, shaking his controller at the screen. "No fair!" He turned to his partner. "That wasn't fair. I had no idea they could do that!"

"They've been playing this game for a lot longer than three days," Pyrrha reminded him.

Ruby wasn't listening. She high-fived her partner. "Nice job with the plasma grenade, Weiss!"

"Alright, my turn," Yang interrupted. She turned to her own partner. "Blake, you wanna play?"

She peeked up from her book, a novel with a silver tie adorning the cover. "No, let Ruby keep playing."

Weiss could sense the faunus girl's tension. Wordlessly, she handed the controller to Yang and made her way across the room. "What's bothering you?"

Blake didn't answer for a few moments before slowly putting the book down and letting out a quiet sigh. "We finally meet our friends again, and now we're crammed into an apartment on the other side of the continent waiting for something big to happen."

"We could go out and do something. It's not like they're going to stop us," Weiss suggested.

Technically, they were all free to go in and out of the secured apartment and explore the city, but the FBI agent had strongly recommended they stay, citing JNPR's lack of cultural exposure and the potential for a major situation to unfold. When she had pressed him, the agent quietly admitted that he was pretty sure his own superiors were deliberately trying to keep them a short leash.

"Not now," Blake answered cryptically. "Even Ruby thought they were being awfully nice to us. Have you ever thought about why?"

"I know the answer. Because they want to use us," she admitted, quickly but uncomfortably. "They talk about wanting to give us a place, find us a way home, but they're really just exploiting us. They know we could be a threat; they don't want us to be a threat. They know we have something they don't; they want to get it. It's pragmatism, not altruism."

Blake blinked. "That's really cynical, even for you."

Her girlfriend raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were the cynical one." She paused. "Besides, I was literally taught to think this way. Do you know what really defines a Schnee?"

Blake hesitated at that. She was pretty sure that Weiss wasn't looking for any sort of positive trait, but still didn't want to piss the girl off. She decided to just say her mind. "I would say racism, coldness, and a general lack of caring for others, but.."

Weiss shook her head, a grim smile on her face. "Ruthless. Pragmatic. Efficiency. That's what was drilled into me. Making the most of what you have without concern for what that is. That's how we're supposed to see the world. A numbers game." She shook her head. "But I'm just making you more nervous, aren't I?"

"Uh, a little," Blake admitted. She blurted out, "Should we really be helping them?"

"Yes," she replied instantly.

"After that speech, your answer is an immediate, unqualified _yes_?"

"Yes," she repeated with a nod. "First, the enemy of my enemy is my ally. An ally of convenience, but still an ally. Like it or not, we're fighting Cinder and the White Fang, and if they are too, well... that makes us sort of friends. Second, what choice do we have? We could be here forever. Either we reap the benefits of what's been offered to us, or take the alternative we don't even have."

"Wow," Blake said quietly. "That was either among the most profound things I've ever heard, or complete and utter bullshit."

Weiss cracked a thin, beautiful smile. She leaned forward, grabbing her laptop off the table before unfolding it on her lap. "Pragmatism, Blake. You can strip away the hate and anger, but you can't take that out of a Schnee."

* * *

It had been a good day for astrophysicist Byron Turovsky.

He'd initially been very sceptical of his new position. A very intelligent and successful man (by his own admission), he had given up a comfortable position at Harvard for the secretive job. He hesitated at the super-secret, military-dominated program- he'd had a bad experience working for Los Alamos in the past. But he'd eventually taken the position, lured in by a promise of being on the absolute leading edge of science, one of the select few privy to groundbreaking knowledge. He'd doubted it at the time, but as the saying went, curiosity killed the cat.

Suffice to say, he'd gotten everything he could have hoped for and then some.

A few weeks prior, his job had changed from "research whatever you want to" to "find out a way to detect people coming through". Being forced down one path irritated him, but he also appreciated the challenge. And he had finally solved that puzzle.

"Neutrino bursts!" he muttered, idly waiting outside his boss's office.

"What?" Dr. Neil Olson, nominal head of Remnant-related scientific research, asked. He looked up from his desk. "Dr. Turovsky. What do you have?"

"Neutrino bursts!" the scientist repeated excitedly. "A pattern of neutrino bursts. Pacific Northwest, August 30, 2014. Eastern Europe, September 14, 2014. September 29 in Japan and October 13 somewhere in the Middle East. These are not solar neutrinos or targeted experiments; we can actually localize these. I mean, there are other bursts, but these ones line up too well to be a coincidence.

Olson's field was much different than Turovsky's, but he grasped the significance immediately. "We can detect when someone comes through?"

"Well, it's really too early to say, but... probably. It's not the only way, but I think this will work."

Olson nodded. "We can detect them. That's great."

"Like I said, probably," he replied cautiously, curbing his earlier enthusiasm. "But it looks like we can't detect them until they actually come through, I mean, this isn't an early warning system, which is what they really wanted."

"It's a lot more than we had," Olson reminded his colleague. "Get a report ready. This goes to the top."

 

 


	9. Building Relations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened to the preview chapter? That is an excellent question, demonstrating your deep understanding of the subject matter. Don't ever ask it again.
> 
> This chapter was very difficult to write. I had a lot of trouble deciding on which direction to take it, so I ended up cutting out parts and putting them back in and rewriting and reordering and generally making a mess of things. It started off with some military stuff and some high-level political stuff, then there was a bunch of character drama, and now it's this, for better or for worse. It's pretty long; I thought about cutting more but decided to just leave it.
> 
> I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I promised myself I'd finish this before checking out Volume 3, and I really want to see it, so, yeah. Here it is.

When they told General Leon Fowler what he would be dealing with, he almost stood up and walked out on what had to be a prank, it was so absurd. Once the President- the Commander-In-Chief himself- had personally confirmed it, it dawned on him how absolutely terrifying their situation was.

And now he was in charge of what was by far the strangest operation of his storied career. It was called RAINBOW FLAME, a name which inspired more derision than fear or awe. That was a deliberate decision, and in fact the name was far more meaningful than a casual observer would realize.

That they could be invaded at any moment from an alternate reality was a chilling prospect, but that was the focus of another group. RAINBOW FLAME was much more focused and specific. He was to develop tactics for dealing with a small group of very powerful and very hostile people- _supervillains, more like._

Gemstone, the above-top-secret task force, had already drawn up plans and estimates. Their work wasn't bad, but it was limited in scope and lacked critical operational details. His job was, more than anything, to turn that information into real operational plans and get key units up to speed with them.

Fowler locked his computer and stepped out of his small office. He turned to his subordinate, a man in a Navy uniform. "Commander, where are we at?"

He replied smartly, "Looks like the Japanese and the Australians won't be participating, though we're not sure if they're sending advisers or not."

"Find out," Fowler urged. A tinge of irritation was evident in his voice. He grabbed his jacket from a stand and motioned to the Commander to follow him.

"Yes, sir. We _have_ received a response from the British; the Special Boat Service is sitting out this one, but a dozen men from the SAS will be flying in tomorrow."

"Are the Canadians are still on board?"

"The Canadians are still on board, sir. Looks like an unspecified number of JTF2 members and at least one observer from the Royal Canadian Air Force. They're flying commercial, landing in LAX this evening."

The General nodded, satisfied. "And what about your special guests, Commander?"

"They should be on their way as we speak."

* * *

When they first saw the C-37 sitting on the tarmac, JNPR did not react as RWBY expected. They stood, in varying degrees of shock at the odd-looking machine that was supposed to convey them to the other side of the continent. Except for Nora, who hummed quietly to herself as she tossed her heavy bag from one hand to the other.

"Does that thing fly?" Jaune asked. It was an aircraft, but it didn't look like any he'd see on Remnant. It also looked incredibly flimsy, like it was about to fall apart. Team RWBY strode ahead, suppressing laughs and rushing for the best seats on the small plane.

"Of course it'll fly," Nora stated, tossing her bag over her head and catching it in her other hand. "It has engines and wings." She was interrupted by a loud, shrill whining from the plane- the more familiar sound of fast-spinning turbomachinery produced by the engines starting up. She shouted over the now-started engine, "See? The engines work!"

Reasonably satisfied that they weren't going to die, Ren and Pyrrha followed Nora as she climbed aboard the aircraft.

Jaune, however, stood on the runway and repeated, "Are you sure that thing flies?"

"It will be fine, Jaune, just get on," his partner urged from the door, rolling her eyes.

Reluctantly, the blonde boy trudged toward the airplane, climbing three steps into the cabin. He took a surprisingly comfortable blue seat near the front. He knew it wouldn't be comfortable for long.

Yang leaned across the aisle, waving a small paper sack in front of his face. "You're going to need this, vomit boy."

* * *

Four hours later, the teens stepped off the plane. They were on a concrete apron parallel with a single wide runway, bordered by collections of sterile buildings. The land around them was largely scrub, with woodlands visible in the distance.

"That was so cool! We were above the clouds. Above the clouds, Ren-Ren!" Nora gushed at her together-together partner, excitedly hopping off the plane.

"Yes," Ren agreed quietly.

"Flying above the clouds was very odd at first, but it was enchanting in its own way," Pyrrha agreed. She turned to her partner, "What did you think, Jaune?"

"I almost threw up." He smiled weakly, still green in the face.

"Hey, at least you only almost threw up," Ruby said, flashing him a thumbs-up.

"Yeah," he agreed reluctantly. "At least it was quick."

A man wearing the green uniform of a United States Marine greeted the group after they had cleared the aircraft. "Welcome to Camp Pendleton. You must be our special guests. Follow me, please."

"Okay," Ruby answered, unnecessarily.

"General Fowler sends his regards and apologizes that he wasn't able to greet you himself," the Marine told them, leading them down the apron toward the buildings. "It's my understanding that Delta and the Canadians are already here, and the British should be arriving shortly. I should warn you; these are our best of the best. They've been briefed, but they're still going to have trouble taking you seriously." Under his breath, he added, "Hell, I'm having trouble believing it."

"So, are we going to be doing stuff here?" Jaune asked nervously.

"It'll be mostly briefings and discussions," the Marine said, shaking his head. "The actual exercises will be at Twentynine Palms. To quote the General, 'hardly urban America, but it's the best we could get on such short notice.'"

Yang asked, "And, uh, how long are we going to be here?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that. You'll have to ask someone higher up the food chain." In an attempt to raise more casual conversation, he added, "So, what do you think of our world so far?"

"It's very different from what we're used to," Pyrrha answered diplomatically. "Yet oddly similar."

"They're already hooked," Yang said more bluntly.

"Well, this is it," the Marine said, suddenly stopping. He motioned to the drab grey building in front of them. "Good luck."

Ruby led the way, confidently pushing open the door and striding into the building. Disappointingly, the door led into a hallway, empty except for one man in the uniform of an Air Force general.

"Good afternoon," he greeted, taking Ruby's much smaller hand. "I'm General Fowler. I assume Sergeant Michaels has already given you the spiel?"

"He did," Ruby answered, trying not to appear as intimidated as she was. She may be superhuman, but this was a general she was talking to, on a base surrounded by soldiers. Sure, asskicking may not equal authority on Earth, but still, authority was a thing in and of itself.

"Relax," the General advised. "These may be among the most dangerous people in the world, but that danger is controlled. You may be students in a room full of veterans, but you're the experts on your world and everyone knows it. Just answer the questions as best you can and we'll do fine."

He lead them to a door at the other end, opening it and allowing them through before shutting the door behind them.

The room was drab and grey; institutional in a way immediately familiar to a Terran, though less so to a Remnan. It was dominated by cheap tables arranged into an approximation of a conference table in the center. Thirty or so people in various military uniforms were seated around it. They were all men, except for one woman in the mottled green of the Canadian Forces.

"They weren't taking the piss, were they?" Blake heard a man in a beige beret whisper to the one beside him.

"So you're tomorrow's huntsmen and huntresses," a man on the other side of the room muttered. It was hard to make out his tone from his accent, which badly butchered _huntsmen and huntresses_.

"Gentlemen," General Fowler announced, "The only Remnans we know of are in this room. Hopefully, they'll be able to answer the questions we've all been asking."

* * *

"Are your arms still tingling?" Jaune asked, shifting in the uncomfortable back of the military truck. "Because my arms are still tingling."

After answering questions to the best of their ability- which varied from _almost useless_ to _massive insights_ , they'd somehow volunteered for weapons testing- as in, having weapons tested on them. They'd been assured that only non-lethal weapons would be tested on the. The general consensus was that even normally lethal weapons would be less than lethal against Aura users, but nobody in the room was willing to risk it.

"I didn't feel anything," Yang repeated with a smirk. Both blondes had been hit by the Active Denial System, colloquially known as the pain ray. In one case, it had done little. In the other, it had resulted in girlish screams.

"And my eyes are still itchy," Jaune continued, rubbing them.

"That's not how tear gas works," Weiss pointed out.

Depending on one's perspective, the common and mundane substance was either the best or worst weapon they'd tested. It was just as effective against Remnans when breathed in. On the other hand, they'd had some success at blocking it with Aura (although the technique blocked _air_ , too) and a prepared enemy could just bring gas masks.

"Maybe it's from the dazzler?" Ruby suggested.

The dazzler had been somewhat successful. It served its purposed- causing temporary blindness- but the subjects in question recovered very quickly. Additionally, it didn't render the target completely helpless- they couldn't see, but they could still cause a lot of damage.

"That's _really_ not how the dazzler works."

"Well, now's our chance to really strut our stuff," Ruby said as the truck came to a stop. A Marine opened the back, and they stepped out onto the sandy ground.

Sprawling out in front of them was a fair facsimile of a desert town. The buildings were square, drab, and only came in three colours, and there were only a few streets, but it was still impressive for a training area. A few wooden silhouettes, painted with Grimm designs, were visible in the streets, along with orange safety cones.

"Deja vu," Yang commented darkly. Her partner shot her a worried glance that she failed to notice.

"Alright," a strong voice interrupted. General Fowler stepped out of a Humvee parked ahead of them with a few soldiers in tow. "Hopefully, this exercise will be more to your liking. This is a simple extermination mission. Hopefully, it'll give us a better idea of what you're capable of.

"Orange cones denote the location of the Grimm- if there's an orange cone in front of the building, there are Grimm in that building. Assume that each Grimm cutout is similar in strength to a real creature and assume that the reduced power ammunition you've been given is the same as the real thing. Other than that, fight as you would normally."

"Uh, we don't have any weapons," Jaune reminded him. He quickly tacked on, "General sir."

The General turned to one of the soldiers. "Sergeant, get them their weapons."

"Yes, sir." He nodded before running off. Moments later, a group of soldiers and Marines returned with hard cases, which they placed on the desert sand and opened.

Most of the warriors calmly picked up their familiar weapons, glad to have them back even when they'd barely been separated in the first place. Ruby, however, zipped over to her beloved and hugged her tightly, drawing a few barely-covered laughs. She ignored them, inspecting the substitute ammo already loaded into dimensionally-identical magazines and loading the weapon.

"Everyone ready?" she asked. Before receiving a complete reply, she turned to the other team leader. "Jaune, how about you go that way and we go this way?" She pointed the directions out.

"Sounds good," Jaune replied. "See you on the other side."

"Bye!" With that, the young warrior charged into battle, her team right behind her.

They made quick work of their initial targets- a half-dozen "Beowolves" lining a dirt street. Ruby's first strikes were clumsy- with the different ammunition, her sniper-scythe responded differently. It made little difference to Blake, who kept her weapon in sword mode for the encounter, or Yang, who wielded Ember Celica normally. Weiss, on the other hand, was limited to jumping up on a glyph and impaling one of the wooden cutouts with the pointy end of Myrtenaster.

Meanwhile, the military personnel had retreated to an air-conditioned trailer just outside the boundary of the fake city. The inside was lined with equipment used to monitor training exercises. Much of it was useless for what they were doing, and was turned off. However, the town was lined with video cameras, fed straight into a bank of monitors (four large flatscreens and a dozen smaller ones) on one wall.

A technician operated a control panel next to it, switching two of the larger monitors to a feed from inside the building as RWBY entered it. On screen, Yang demolished an Ursa cutout with her fists and Ruby swung her scythe _through_ one of the walls as she beheaded a Beowolf.

"They seem to prefer melee," a Canadian Lieutenant pointed out. Like the others in the room, he watched in an almost clinical manner, observing tactics rather than trying to derive entertainment "Look at Weiss- those are fencing techniques." He motioned to one of the other monitors, showing the other team advancing through an alley toward the other side of town. "And Jaune, a swordsman. Not a very good one."

"They're deadly up close," his British counterpart agreed. It took RWBY less than a minute to clear the building and descend back to street level. "You don't want to get them inside."

"Well, RWBY's headed for the square now." The town square was more of a large, open patch of dirt than an actual square. This was a tougher fight- more Ursai and more Beowolves. This time, the team stayed in one place, ripping into the crowds with the ranged functions of their weapons. "Volume of fire's pretty low."

"Quality over quantity, and they're down one."

"I suppose."

The team started moving again, using a mix of melee and ranged as they moved into the town square. "They're not watching the- wait, black hair's scanning the roofs. They don't believe in cover, do they?"

"They don't need to, especially against the Grimm."

"Understandable," General Fowler chimed in. "I tried to set up a human-on-human encounter, but we just couldn't get the logistics worked out."

"Fair enough, sir." The SAS man turned his attention to the other team. His initial impression of Jaune Arc had not been positive- he came across as a bumbling idiot with an ineffective weapon. But obviously he was doing something right, because his team was advancing steadily through the town. It wasn't Jaune that caught his eye, though, but the orange-haired girl on his team pouring grenades down the street with reckless abandon. "That girl's bonkers. Looks like they're almost done, though."

"Wonder what'll happen when they meet?"

That was almost anticlimactic. One Grimm-infested building later, JNPR emerged on the same street RWBY had just cleared. They exchanged words- without an audio feed, the people in the trailer had no idea what the words were- and relaxed. A few of them waved to where they thought the cameras were.

"What do you think, Captain?" General Fowler asked the beige-bereted man from the SAS.

He chewed his lip for a moment before answering. "Sir, they are out of context, out of our league, and can absolutely be beaten with the right tactics."


	10. Breaking Tensions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice fun chapter. The calm before the storm, if you will. It should have been easy to write, but it wasn't. I'm just going to blame midterms. Though I still can't write relationships for shit.
> 
> I went back and forth with the Gavin/Yang scene. At one point, she was going to spill the beans. In the end, I decided not to have her reveal everything, but drop some hints and get Gavin suspicious.
> 
> I wouldn't call it the best movie ever, but I liked the 2007 Transformers film. It's a great movie for Remnans in any case. Lots of CGI and full of action.
> 
> I know crimsonette and whitehead are not really adjectives. They exist on Remnant to describe the wider variation in hair colour.

**10** **:** **Breaking Tensions**

"Welcome to Vancouver!" Ruby shouted, bursting through the door.

She was greeted by the quiet hum of the central air conditioning and a few electronic devices that were left running. The house was virtually untouched from when they'd left it a few weeks prior. A team _had_ gone through to secure the building, but they hadn't bothered doing more than the bare minimum, leaving the place the hurriedly-left mess that it had been before.

"Uh, Ruby, we've technically been in Vancouver for over an hour," Yang pointed out to her sister, following her inside.

"Oh, right," the crimsonette acknowledged, embarrassed. "Well, welcome to home sweet home. It's not Patch... or even Beacon... but we do okay."

"Wow, this place is big!" Jaune said, impressed. "Is it bugged?"

Pyrrha elbowed him. "Jaune!"

Ruby and Yang looked at each other. Neither of the sisters had actually thought of that. "Uh..."

"Probably," Blake said with a shrug, pushing past them and claiming her favourite chair in the corner of the living room.

"Definitely," Weiss agreed, taking a spot on the couch beside her.

"So, uh, where do we sleep?" Jaune asked. He sat down on the same couch as Weiss, but on the other side, allowing Pyrrha to slide in between them.

"Oh, the guys across the street should show up with stuff later," Ruby answered. "There's lots of space." She sat down cross-legged on the floor, reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table.

"So this is your city, huh?" Nora asked.

"Yup." The crimsonette flipped through several channels before settling on Global News.

"You're gonna show us the city, right? All the sights, all the sounds, all the places, all the pancakes? Do they have a zoo? I wonder if they have-"

"Nora," Ren cautioned.

"We'll show you all kinds of stuff, like the Vancouver Aquarium and Stanley Park and Science World," Ruby told them. "But I'm burnt. Today, we're gonna do something that we didn't get the chance to do because we had to go to that stupid desert."

"Eat pancakes?" Nora suggested.

"Tomorrow," Ruby dismissed. "Today, we're going to watch the best movie ever."

Jaune immediately suggested his favourite movie. "Mi-"

Weiss cut him off. "It's a Terran movie, you dolt. It's-"

Ruby zipped forward and grabbed a blu-ray from a haphazard pile. She held up the case like some kind of treasure. "Transformers!"

* * *

Cliff sat in front of his computer, illuminated only by the whitish glow of his IPS monitor and the gentle blue light on his webcam. From his perch, he could conference with Isaac on the other side of town and Ben, Sam, and Jen in Vancouver. It was quite the technological achievement when one thought about it.

Of course, none of the participants thought about it, which perhaps was an amazing achievement in and of itself.

"So... we're headed to Texas..." Sam began. His face was blurry on screen- Ben's webcam wasn't very good.

As usual, Cliff was working on projects at the same time. Pausing in the middle of a line of Java code, he replied dismissively, "Yeah, have fun."

"You're not going?" Isaac asked, voice crackling from his half-broken microphone.

Sam insisted, "You're going."

Isaac continued, "You're literally pissing on-"

"I don't think you understand what _literally_ means-"

"Oh, we are _not_ having this conversation."

"Who cares?" Ben interrupted.

Cliff ignored them. "Pretty sure he'd say work more and get your fucking game done. Which is what I planned to do anyway."

"No, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't," Isaac insisted.

"You're just gonna piss away the time doing weird shit on the Internet anyway," Sam added.

"It's gonna be expensive."

"Hey, this is like a once in a lifetime experience," Sam reminded. "You didn't walk away from Ruby, and look what-"

"Half of us almost died," Ben pointed out. "Not the best example."

"Whatever."

There was a pause and an audible sigh. "Alright, fuck it, I'm in."

"You were in the whole time, weren't you?"

"Maybe."

"I wonder if we'll see the real thing there?" Isaac mused.

Sam shrugged. "Come on, they probably have, like, VIP tickets."

* * *

Though he tried hard not to show it, the teenager in the middle of the park was nervous. He checked his phone again, frowning at the odd message.

 _Fuck me, maybe_ _Aaron's_ _right_ , Gavin thought to himself. He quickly dismissed the thought. His girlfriend's text was _odd_ , not necessarily alarming. The worst that could happen was her breaking up with him.

Which would be pretty shitty, actually.

"Hey," a familiar voice called. Yang was just as beautiful as he remembered- maybe more. She'd let her hair down, and the golden locks cascaded down her back. She strode up the gravel path toward him. "We've got a lot to talk about."

"Yeah," Gavin replied, unsure. "It's been almost a month. Where _were_ you?"

"Visiting friends in Washington," she answered quickly. A little too quickly.

"What were you really doing for a month?" Gavin repeated, harsher than he intended.

She sighed, sitting down on the bench beside him. "I _was_ in Washington, and I _was_ visiting old friends. It's... complicated."

"Complicated?"

"I have a long and storied past," she dodged. "Basically, there were some things I had to take care of-"

Gavin couldn't stop himself. "You weren't, like, born a guy, were you?"

"No, of course not!" she replied. "Look, you know how I said I was an orphan? It's... more complicated than that. There's still some things I don't want to talk about. But... someday."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I don't know, Yang. I'm not Aaron. I'm not going to go on wild, crazy tangents," he replied slowly, carefully. "Your life is weird, sad, and I don't understand it. Maybe there's some escapism going on. But... you're not like other girls I've met. When you're ready to talk, I'll listen."

"I like that."

* * *

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. Still recovering from their trip to California, the teams ended up relaxing around the house after running a few errands in the morning. Laptops were open, pop cans and bags of chips littered the living room, and the TV was blaring some mindless program about celebrities.

"Has anyone checked the mail since we got back?" Weiss asked idly, glancing up from the Unity editor on her screen.

Ruby didn't even take her eyes off the TV. "It doesn't come on weekends anyway."

The whitehead raised an eyebrow. "But we've been gone for weeks."

"I'll get it," Blake offered. She placed a bookmark in her novel and tucked it into her chair.

"Wait up, Blake," Yang called from the kitchen. She emerged seconds later, joining her partner and heading for the door.

"They don't deliver mail to the door?" Jaune asked, confused. It had taken him a moment to realize what was so odd about their conversation.

"They used to, and some places still do, but not here," Weiss told him.

"Lazy," Nora muttered. She held up her borrowed Surface, waving it under Ren's face. "Look, Ren-Ren, people dressed up as sloths. They even-"

"Nora," Ren cautioned. He pushed the tablet away remarkably gently considering what was on the screen. She thought nothing of it, moving on to scroll through random posts on Reddit.

"I just thought of something," Jaune interrupted. "Well, I mean, I've been thinking about this since we got here, but.. what if we can't get back?"

"Of course we can," Ruby reminded him. "I mean, it happened twice, maybe three times, right?"

"But that's going the other way," Nora pointed out. "And we don't even know if they did it on purpose."

"It could take a long time to duplicate the technology," Weiss added. "Even if it is possible to do it from this side."

"We'll find a way back," Ruby insisted.

"Yeah, but it could take a really long time," Jaune countered diplomatically. "So, what do we do?"

Weiss answered sharply, "Take every opportunity provided to us. Accept that we will never truly be independent. Prepare for the eventual revelation and conseq-"

"You've got mail!" a boisterous voice shouted from the entrance. Yang stomped into the living room, dumping a stack of envelopes on the coffee table and sitting down behind it.

Her partner was close behind. She shared a look with Weiss before returning to her chair and her book.

"Let's see," Yang muttered, sorting through the pile. "Junk mail, spam, bills, more bills, ads, huh."

"Huh?" Jaune echoed.

"Texas..." The blonde hurriedly tore the envelope open, dumping its contents on the floor in front of her. She held up four slips of paper.

"What are those?" Nora asked, peering at them.

Yang reminded, "Remember that thing we talked about it on the plane?"

Jaune remembered, "The con with the RWBY show and Red and Blue and all those, right?"

"This is awesome! It'll be the one time when we can actually be ourselves and nobody will notice," Nora pointed out.

"But, uh, only you four got tickets," Jaune pointed out.

"Don't worry," Ruby reassured. "We'll just ask for four more. There's no way they _won't_ give them to us."

"Alright, then," Jaune replied with a smile. "Sounds like fun."

"It'll be interesting," Pyrrha said with slight reluctance.

Ren nodded his agreement.

Nora jumped three feet into the air. "This is gonna be awesome!"

* * *

 

 


	11. An Unexplained Anomaly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Act II. It's meant to be a sort of return to the concept of Emergence, starring ordinary people running into extraordinary things, though obviously the circumstances are much different this time around. It took longer than expected. I honestly think this is either the best chapter or the worst chapter I've written since Emergence.
> 
> Also, I'm sure some of you are wondering by now why the chapter titles often don't match the content of the chapters. It's because the chapter titles are usually decided first, long before the chapters are written.

The woman in the red dress bolted upright, amber eyes scanning for danger. She recalled the events that led them here- that stupid kid driving his sword into a piece of machinery that bent the laws of reality- and a flame erupted in her right hand along with a burst of anger. She forced the anger down, controlling herself and extinguishing the flame.

She reminded herself that that blonde idiot had failed, that they were still alive despite what he thought he had accomplished. It would be a major setback for their benefactors, but not for her. All she needed to do was figure out how to get back to Vale. Preferably quietly, and with a good explanation for their absence.

An orange-haired man in a now quite dirty and battered white coat stirred beside her. He grabbed a black cane from its position on the ground beside him and used it to get up. The man paused for a moment before shifting the cane and poking a woman with pink and brown hair sprawled next to him.

"Well, this is certainly a moment of triumph, isn't it?" Roman Torchwick snarked, pointing his cane accusingly at the woman in the red dress. He motioned to their surroundings. "Where the _fuck_ are we?"

"If I knew, this time I _would_ tell you," Cinder Fall replied curtly. She glanced around briefly before finding the people she was looking for, a grey-haired young man and a green-haired young woman. They were tangled awkwardly with each other in the grass. "Mercury, Emerald. Get up."

"Wha..." Mercury, the young man in grey, mumbled drowsily.

"Get off me!" The green-haired woman pushed him off, stumbling upright.

Confident that her subordinates were at least awake enough to function, Cinder surveyed their surroundings again. They were standing on the edge of a road, four lanes with a centre turn lane down the middle. There were no sidewalks with only thin shoulders, gravel edging, and a grassy ditch on each side. A thin fence separated the road from what looked like farms on either side, with a few drab buildings visible in the distance. She guessed it was evening, with the sun already mostly set, though she could be confusing it for the morning.

"We hitchhike," she concluded after a moment.

Roman laughed mirthlessly. "That's your brilliant plan? Hitchhike?"

"Would you prefer we simply steal a vehicle?"

He almost answered in the affirmative before thinking about the woman's logic. They didn't actually know where they were, so they might not get very far. There was, however, something the brilliant planner was missing. "Have you forgotten that I am one of the most wanted men in Vale?"

"In Vale. If they recognize us... well, we'll just make sure they don't remember us, won't we?" She motioned to her minions, who nodded.

"I think you and I have very different definitions of hitchhiking," Roman shot back.

"It will be dark soon. I think we'd both rather be somewhere else when that happens. We clearly aren't inside the safe parts of any of the Kingdoms." Cinder turned and nodded to Mercury, who stepped out into the roadway.

The first vehicle to appear was a small, boxy blue truck that reeked of chemicals. The driver, a woman with dirty blonde hair, rolled down the window and shouted, "What the fuck?"

"Can we get a ride to the next town?" Emerald asked sweetly.

"You want a ride to Fritztown, call a fucking cab!" the woman replied angrily in accented Valic. She cranked the steering wheel hard to the right and hit the accelerator, barely missing Emerald as she tore down the highway.

"Brilliant plan," Roman snarked from his position beside the road. "You made a great impression, kid."

Emerald glared at him. "Well, maybe your lapdog can try!"

"First of all, Neo is my _sidekick_ , not my lapdog. Secondly-" He was interrupted by Neo tugging on his sleeve and pointing to the road. "Fine. Let the mute call for a ride."

Neo pouted in reply.

"You were asking for it."

She rolled her eyes before exchanging places with Emerald on the roadway. She stood there, parasol daintily held in one hand, before a green van appeared a minute later.

The driver pulled over, emergency flashers blinking as the vehicle pulled to a stop next to the group of criminals. The driver's side window rolled down, revealing a young woman with light brown hair and a round face. She smiled at Neo, blinking as she noticed the rest of the group. "Hey. You heading to Austin?"

"Let me handle this," Roman said quietly to Cinder. He didn't wait for her to argue, instead sauntering up to the van with a winning smile on his face.

Thinking that none of them had heard her, the woman repeated, "You headed to Austin? I can give you a ride if you need it."

"That would be much appreciated," Roman told her with a slight bow. He had no idea where Austin was, of course, but it had to be better than here. Hopefully.

"Got the character spot-on, I see," the driver replied with a laugh. She reached down and unlocked the doors. "Alright, climb in the other side."

Roman walked around the front of the vehicle, pulling open the passenger side door and taking a seat beside the driver. Cinder and Neo took the second row of seats, and Mercury and Emerald squeezed into the back of the vehicle.

"You're _so_ lucky," she told them. "Something went wrong with the engine in Dad's car so I had to borrow the minivan instead. Still gonna kill me for this, though."

Roman unconsciously wrinkled his nose. What was that smell? Industrial chemicals?

The young woman didn't notice. She put the vehicle in gear and pulled back onto the road, accelerating to the 70 mph speed limit. She announced to nobody in particular, "Hi. I'm Sarah."

Roman hesitated before answering. They may not be in Vale anymore, but his real name was probably still recognizable. "Tangelo. Tangelo Coleman. My partner in the pink and brown is... Lavender."

"Phoenix," Cinder replied absentmindedly. Before her subordinates could say anything stupid, she added, "The ones in the back are Chloe and Grayson."

"I actually live in Austin; I went out to Fredericksburg to visit some of my friends. I didn't think I'd see any cosplayers out here, but I guess 'tis the season." She stopped suddenly. "Sorry, I'm rambling. What's your story? Heading out to RTX, I guess, but how'd you end up beat to shit on the side of the highway?"

"It's a long story," Roman dodged. He had no idea where Austin or Fredericksburg were, where they were, or where this young woman came from. His experience was that if you didn't know enough to lie convincingly, the best thing to do was to say as little as possible until you could.

"Where'd you come from?" Sarah pressed, trying to start conversation again.

"Vacuo," he answered.

To his surprise, she laughed. "No, seriously, where are you from?"

"Elmcrest." When you had to give an answer, a noncommittal one was best. Elmcrest _was_ a neighbourhood in Vacuo, but also an upscale apartment complex in Vale and a village just outside of Atlas.

"Is that in California?"

 _California_ didn't ring any bells, but letting the mark come up with their own story was a perfectly valid strategy. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess. Just sounds kind of California-ish," Sarah answered with a slight shrug. "Damn, you really hitchhiked all the way from California?"

"It seemed like a reasonable plan at the time," Cinder/Phoenix said from behind them.

"Couldn't afford to fly?" Sarah guessed.

He shrugged in an exaggerated way. "Couldn't afford to fly."

Their driver was silent for a few moments before turning to Roman again. "You look kind of beat up, if you don't mind me saying. Did the last driver kick you out or something?"

He smiled thinly. "Something like that. To be honest, I think he was a little... insane. Or a lot insane."

"I guess that's the risk. Well, looks like another mile to Stonewall," Sarah told them. "I've got to stop for gas. It'd be great if you could chip in, but, well, I'm not gonna boot you out if you don't."

"That's very generous of you," Roman replied with a winning smile. Ahead, they could see the lights of a small town coming up.

He may have been a thief, but Roman Torchwick was not stupid. There was something really strange about the town, namely that it wasn't fortified in the slightest. The highway seemed to run straight through the town, which was just a small collection of buildings with no visible walls or watch towers. They couldn't be inside any of the Kingdoms- he would have recognized it if they were. They had to be in the outskirts- wild lands infested with Grimm technically inside the de jure boundaries of the Kingdoms- but there was literally nothing protecting this town.

He refrained from commenting, but heard one of the shit kids in the back mutter something about the town being a target.

"Target for what? Terrorists?" Sarah said with a laugh, having overheard the same thing he did. "Stonewall's like... five hundred people or something." She turned left across the empty highway, pulling into what looked like a fuelling station.

"Chevron," Cinder read quietly.

"Yeah, it's the only gas station in this town. Should've filled up before I left. Look at the prices." Sarah motioned to the sign with one hand, putting the vehicle into park and shutting off the ignition with the other.

Cinder examined the sign. It listed prices for "regular" and "diesel". She assumed "regular" meant the fire dust blend typically used for powering vehicles, but had no idea what "diesel" was. A local colloquialism for lightning dust, perhaps?

As soon as Sarah opened the door, the Remnans in the vehicle nearly gagged. The smell was somewhere between industrial lubricant and paint thinner, and it was overpoweringly strong.

Cinder immediately threw the door open, and within seconds the whole party was outside the vehicle and heading for the perceived safety of the gas station store.

"Hey Lavender," Sarah called. She had started fuelling as the others fled, prepaying for the fuel with her credit card.

Neo stopped and turned. Everyone else continued into the store and shut the door behind them.

Sarah motioned to the gas station nozzle. "Can you watch this? I gotta call my brother. He's gonna be really excited to meet you guys."

"Lavender" nodded. It was a very reluctant nod, but the other woman didn't seem to notice the reluctance.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"Lavender" shook her head. If Sarah had been mean about it, the blood would be flying right about now, but she seemed to just be curious, and Roman has specifically told her not to dismember anyone today.

"Staying in character, I suppose?"

"Lavender" shrugged. She honestly had no idea what Sarah was talking about.

"Okay." Sarah stepped away from the gas pumps, fishing her iPhone out of her jeans pocket. She didn't really believe that it would cause the gas station to explode, but better safe than sorry. A quick swipe unlocked it and she dialled the third number on the list. "Brandon, come on, pick up..."

"Sarah?" a teenaged male voice replied after a few moments of delay. "Hey, big sis. Where are you? I think Dad's starting to get a bit worried."

"Of course he is. I had to help Mel out with a few things, last-minute. I just made it to Stonewall. Hey, you'll _never_ guess who I picked up on the highway."

"The ghost of Lyndon B. Johnson?" her brother deadpanned.

"No, silly! One sec." She held her iPhone up, swiping to the camera up. A few taps later, she had a grainy photo of Neo at the gas pump on its way to her brother.

"A Neo cosplayer? Cool. Looks pretty cool, beat up, though. How far did she hitchhike?"

"Well, she didn't say anything, but Angelo said they came from California."

"Angelo... wait, who else did you pick up?" Brandon asked, suddenly concerned.

"All of them!" she replied with a laugh. "They're travelling as a group. Cinder, her two minions, and Angelo is Roman Torchwick. It's pretty awesome!"

There was a pause on the other end, then a response. "Sarah, are you _insane_?"

She laughed it off. "It's fine. They're cosplayers, not hardened criminals! They just need a ride to RTX."

"That's the kind of logic that gets people raped and murdered," he replied, half-serious. "I'm serious, Sarah. Do you even know who these people are?"

She dismissed that warning, too. "Geez, Brandon, calm down. It's only an hour to Austin. Just wait till you meet them. I'm sure you'll love it."

"Mom and Dad are gonna _freak_." Brandon reminded her.

"Relax, it's not even the craziest thing I've done."

"That's not a good thing!"

"It's totally a good thing!" Sarah retorted lightly. "See you soon, little bro."

Brandon laughed. "Yeah. See you soon, big sis."

* * *

The inside of the gas station seemed familiar enough. A cashier sat half-asleep behind a till flanked by snacks, electronics, and lighters. Shelves were filled with chips, candy, and a few household sundries. Coolers lined the rear of the store, filled with colourful beverages. A small station with coffee pots and a microwave sat beside it. Half of the building was taken up by an old-fashioned diner, but it was closed off with white metal bars.

"God, what are they pumping here?" Roman said, coughing for emphasis as the door slammed shut behind them. "Industrial solvent?"

"I think it's what they're using as fuel," Emerald suggested, shuffling over to the beverage coolers. She opened one of them, pulling out a bright blue bottle. "Mountain Dew... mountain ew."

"Who burns industrial solvent?" Mercury asked. "I mean, isn't that stuff really expensive?"

"Not really," Roman replied. "But if everyone burned it, it would be. Supply and demand, my young and illiterate friend." He picked up a bag of chips and idly tossed it between his gloved hands. "Hence back to my original question. Where are we?"

"Stonewall," Mercury answered. He sidled up beside Emerald and pulled a different bottle out, one that looked vaguely like Schnee Cola.

"Which is _where_?"

"Well, it's a road in Atlas, I think," he answered. "But this isn't Atlas."

"It doesn't look like we're in any of the Kingdoms," Emerald concluded, mostly serious. "I mean, this place is just weird."

"Yeah, like, I don't recognize any of this stuff," Mercury added. "It all looks familiar, but I've never heard of... Coca-Cola before."

"And if we're not in any of the Kingdoms, again, I ask, _where the fuck are we_?" Roman waved to their surroundings in emphasis.

"Patience," Cinder interrupted, speaking for the first time since they'd pulled into the gas station. "We will find out in good time. Until then, we remain inconspicuous. The young woman doesn't recognize or suspect us. We can use that to our advantage."

"Our advantage doing _what_?" Roman snapped. "I suppose you still have some grand scheme in mind?"

"Oh, Roman, so little faith," Cinder replied. "I have always had a grand scheme in mind. This is a minor setback. It changes nothing. We find our way back and continue."

"So, do we steal the car, or let the airhead take us to Austin?" Emerald asked, slipping a chocolate bar into her pocket.

"We exploit her generosity as long as possible," Cinder announced with an air of finality. "We will act when the time to act has come."

"Hey, are you gonna buy something?" the clerk interrupted from behind the till. "Because you're really fucking creeping me out."

Cinder stepped away from the rack of chips and toward the clerk, heels clacking with her strides. She leaned in toward the clerk, fire burning behind her irises and a terrifying smirk on her face. "We're quite done." Quickly, she stood, turned on her heel, and headed for the exit.

The young man blinked, in shock as the odd group disappeared outside. "Man, I really gotta lay off."

* * *

"Ready to go?" Sarah called from beside the van. She waved the group over.

"We're ready," Cinder replied. She was the first to climb into the vehicle, taking the seat just behind Sarah again.

Mercury and Emerald went around the other side, returning to their seats in the back of the van. Roman and Neo tried to get into the front seat at the same time, bumping into each other.

"Oh no," Roman told his partner. "I'm taking the front seat. Unlike you, I need legroom."

She pouted, but climbed into the seat behind him without further complaint, pulling the door shut and buckling her seat belt.

The brief exchange had been a ruse. Roman knew exactly what his partner had done; they'd done it many times before. Pretending to fumble with his (once-fabulous) jacket, he quickly read the note Neo had placed in his front pocket. _Knows who we should be. thinks us imposters. 1 hr to Austin_

"Seatbelts on? Used the washroom if you had to? Ready to go?" Taking their silence for a positive answer, Sarah started the engine, put the van into gear, and sped off into the night.

 

 

 


	12. Aiding and Abetting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really happy with the flow and dialogue in this chapter, but I'm basically forcing myself to fight writer's block and get this finished. This has probably been the most difficult to write out of Convergence so far, and it's the chapter I'm the least happy with.
> 
> We'll see about the next ones. I'm going to try to increase the pace to approximately one chapter every two weeks, but whether I'll be able to keep to it or not really depends on how the next term goes.

The trip was odd, Sarah reflected to herself. The cosplayers she'd picked up had been awfully quiet, and whenever she tried to start conversation, it quickly died down. She knew they were from California, knew they were going to RTX, knew that something had happened earlier in their trip, and not much else. She found it odd that they didn't want to talk much, but some people were just like that. Maybe they were just tired.

"So, you never told me how you ended up on the side of the road," Sarah asked for the fifth time.

"No," Roman- _Angelo_ , she mentally corrected herself- answered, voice flat.

She laughed. "Come on, that's not an answer. It couldn't have been that bad!"

"If you must know, the last driver did not appreciate that we couldn't afford fuel," Cinder- _Phoenix, not Cinder!_ \- said from behind them. "Or, rather, that Tangelo could not afford fuel."

Sarah cracked up. "Wait, so you just got dumped in the middle of the road because you didn't have gas money?"

"This is _not_ funny," Emerald snapped from the back of the van.

"I don't get it," Sarah questioned. "Why'd they leave you in the middle of the highway?"

"They didn't," Phoenix answered. "We walked from the fuel station."

"How far?"

"It was in Fredericksburg."

" _Damn._ That's like a three hour walk!" She went quiet, then after a minute asked, "Hey, Phoenix?"

"Yes?"

"Do you always sound like Cinder Fall? Because you're really good at it- I mean, you sent shivers down my spine back there, you know?" Before the woman in question could ask how Sarah knew who she was, she continued, "Are you the real Jessica Nigri? Cause that would be pretty awesome. But it's not like I'm gonna kick you out if you aren't- you're still cool."

Cinder quickly closed her palm, extinguishing the panicked flame that had begun to flare. "Sorry, I'm just Phoenix."

"It's a cool name," Sarah said awkwardly. "Do you have a last name, or is that your last name?"

"Yes," she non-answered.

"Come on, that's not an answer. Oh, is it, like, not your real name? Like a nickname or something?"

"It's the name I use."

"Okay," Sarah turned in her seat to face their heterochromatic companion. "What about you, Lavender?"

"She doesn't really talk much," Emerald answered helpfully.

"Is that why you're cosplaying Neo? Do you feel, like, some kind of connection there?"

She didn't respond.

"Okay, sorry, maybe that was offensive. Did you find that offensive?"

Neo shook her head.

"Well, we're going to be hitting Austin soon," Sarah told them, turning her eyes back to the road. The bright lights of the city were plainly visible on the horizon. "Where are you staying?"

"Just drop us off downtown," Roman told her. They could find- or swindle- something.

"Right. Where downtown?"

"Just downtown."

"Downtown's pretty big. Which hotel do you have?"

"Any one will do." Which was a bad answer, but naming a hotel that didn't exist was probably an even worse one.

"Any one?" Sarah asked incredulously. "Wait, so you couldn't afford gas, but you're planning on checking into a random hotel, late in the evening, two days before RTX in the middle of downtown Austin?"

"Uh..." Roman groaned inwardly, realizing that he'd backed himself into a corner. It did happen, but not often, and certainly not to him. "We're resourceful."

Sarah snapped her fingers. "You can stay with us!"

"What? That's very generous, but I'm not sure if-"

Sarah cut him off. "Nonsense! I'm sure my brother's really excited to meet you, and my parents' house has lots of extra room-"

"Your parents? Are you sure they'll be okay with this?" Mercury- _Greyson_ \- asked from the back.

"It'll be fine! They'll love to have you!"

"Right..."

* * *

The sun had firmly set below the horizon by the time the green minivan pulled into the suburban neighbourhood. Sarah drove halfway down the street before turning sharply, parking the minivan in front of a two-story house beside a silver sedan and half on the grass. She shut off the engine before shutting the door and striding up to the house, humming to herself.

She knocked three times before a smiling young man two years her younger, but with very similar features, answered. Loudly, she proclaimed, "I'm baaack!"

"Hey, big sis, welcome..." his voice trailed off when he noticed the party trailing her. "You took them _here_?"

Sarah replied casually, "Yeah, I mean-"

She was interrupted by a loud, tall man who pulled her into a tight hug. "Hey, baby gir- who are these people?" The man released Sarah, eyeing the costumed visitors. "New friends, Sarah?"

"George!" a woman, shorter and twenty years older than Sarah but otherwise looking very similar, said, pushing the man out of the way. "Don't be such a- oh, my."

"I made new friends on my way back!" Sarah explained, seemingly oblivious to her parents' discomfort. "They hitchhiked here all the way from California, and now they need a place to stay!"

"A word, Sarah," her father said gruffly, pulling her inside the house without giving her time to argue.

The visitors shared a look. That definitely wasn't good.

"Well, come in," the woman said- much more positively- after a pause, waving them inside. "We'll see what we can do, but I'm not going to leave you just standing out there. I'm Maddy, Sarah's mom."

The foyer wasn't very big, at least not with seven people inside. It was a split entrance, with stairs leading up toward what looked like a kitchen and into a dark basement below. Dark wood paneling that had seen better days covered the lower halves of the walls, with comparatively fresh cream paint above. Dark wood balusters lined both staircases.

Brandon stood awkwardly in the corner, playing with the strings on his brown hoodie. Maddy closed the door behind them. Roman noticed Sarah disappear with her father into a side room upstairs, followed by a muffled _But daaaad!_

"You look starving," Maddy said, waving them upstairs. "Oh, please take your shoes off. Where was the last place you ate?"

"Atlas," Mercury mumbled. He followed her upstairs. There was a narrow hallway between them and the kitchen, leading to bedrooms one way and a spacious living room the other.

"Fredericksburg," Roman replied. He knew he'd get a lot of mileage out of that town, even though he had no idea where it was or what it looked like.

"But we walked five hours before your daughter picked us up," Emerald added, remembering the detail.

"Wow!" she replied. "We weren't really planning for such a big party, but I'm sure we can figure out something."

"You're taking this remarkably well, Miss..."

"Madeline Jennifer Poole- nee Sands- but Maddy is just fine," she replied with a nonchalant wave, disappearing into the kitchen. "Our daughter's wonderful, but she's a little too good at making friends. Brings people home all the time. We're used to it now."

"Um."

"Come on. Brandon! Could you get the extra chairs?"

"Sure, Mom." He started moving back toward the stairs- usually, the extra chairs ended up in the basement.

A few seconds later, Maddy called from the kitchen, "Wait, no, I'll get the chairs. Dinner will be ten minutes, so entertain our guests."

"Uh, sure, mom," Brandon replied. He motioned them to the living room, which contained the usual sofa and chairs, along with something their guests guessed was a weird video screen. Family portraits hung from the walls.

He turned to the guests and asked awkwardly, "Uh, you guys want the wifi password?"

"That'd be great," Roman answered. He had no idea what the local net looked like.

"It's _password_ , but with a capital P and two fives instead of of s's," Brandon answered. "The name is "

Mercury pulled out his scroll and tried it. _No AirCNP attachment points found_ , the device blinked angrily at him. "It's not working."

"Maybe your phone is too old?" he suggested. "It's a new AC router. But it should work with N just fine-"

"Brandon, put in some effort!" Maddy called from the kitchen before anyone could do anything else.

"Right..." Brandon cringed, realizing how awkward he had been. "Sorry, it's late and I'm pretty tired. Shouldn't have spent all last night playing League. I'm Brandon Poole. I'm Sarah's sister."

"Tangelo," Roman answered.

"Mer-" He quickly corrected himself. "Greyson."

"Chloe," Emerald replied.

They looked at Neo expectantly.

"Are you going to tell them your name?" Roman asked his partner. "Oh, right, you _can't_."

She pouted.

"Her name is Lavender," Roman explained. "She doesn't really talk."

"Really in character or really mute... sorry, that was insensitive."

"It's fine," he sarcastically excused for his partner.

Brandon looked over the motley group again. "Wow. I mean, I don't really watch it, but you guys are spot on. So, I guess you guys are really into RWBY, huh."

Roman almost replied with something about being too old for that not to be creepy as hell, but then remembered that Cinder and her minions were pretending to be seventeen again- like that would work. The minions, maybe, but Cinder could pass as an adult student and only an adult student. He replied neutrally. "We've met."

"I meant the show."

"Oh." _What show?_

"What part of California are you from, anyway?"

"The central part," Roman answered vaguely.

"So, like LA?"

"Well-"

"I'm surprised your sister picked us up and brought us here without even asking your parents if it was okay," Emerald interrupted. "I mean, we could be murderers for all you know."

"Are you?"

 _Yes._ "No?"

"Ha, well, she's really... trusting. She sees these cosplayers headed to RTX that got roughed up- how did that happen, anyway?- and picks them up. She doesn't really think about what you could be. Maybe." Brandon shrugged. "But nothing bad has happened yet, so either she's lucky or actually a really good judge of character. I dunno. We trust her. She's my weird sister, it's just what she does."

"Do you all lack common sense- ow!" Mercury rubbed his side after Emerald ribbed him.

"Don't piss them off!" she hissed in his ear. "People are actually being nice to us!"

Seconds later, Sarah and her father came back up the stairs and walked into the living room. She looked flustered and uncomfortable, despite her best attempts to hide it. Her father, on the other hand, simply looked resigned.

"What's the verdict?" Brandon asked his sister, loud enough for their guests to stay.

She gave him a weak thumbs-up before turning to the people she'd brought in. "You can stay."

"Dinner's ready!" Maddy called from the dining room.

"I'm not sure if that's a relief or not," Emerald muttered to Mercury, following him into the dining room.

The dining room was a good size for a normal family, but became somewhat cramped with nine people inside. A large table covered in a light blue tablecloth dominated the room. Six matching and three mismatched chairs encircled it. Spread across the surface of the table was a pan full of meat in sauce, a bowl full of corn cobs, a large bowl of greens, bread in a basket and a bunch of condiments and stuff.

"That looks delicious," Mercury commented. He took a seat between Emerald and Neo, near the living room.

"We're a Christian family, so we say grace," George told them, taking a seat at the end of the table. "But if that's not your religion, we don't mind if you don't join us."

He recited, "Bless us, oh Lord, and these your gifts which we are about to receive from your bounty. Through Christ our Lord we pray, Amen."

"Amen," the family echoed.

"Are they part of some kind of cult?" Roman whispered to his partner. Fortunately, nobody else heard.

"So we have pork chops, corn, and spinach salad. Oh, and these rolls," George announced, motioning to the food on the table. "Uh, none of you are kosher or halal, right? Or vegan... shoot..."

Maddy slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Relax, George, I'm sure it's fine."

"It's fine, sir," Emerald told him. The food smelled good, but slightly off in a way she couldn't describe. Still, she was hungry, and spooned a decent portion onto her plate. She whispered to Mercury, "I think these people are nuts."

The heterochromatic girl shrugged in response and went back to her pork chops.

"So, what brings you to Texas?" George asked, grabbing a pork chop for himself and beginning to cut.

"RTX," Roman replied, relaxed. He had no idea what RTX was, other than that it apparently had a good reputation, at least among the three people he'd met so far, and that people dressed up like criminals and weirdos and went there. None of which made any sense, but he was willing to roll with it for the time being. Let them believe their own story.

"Fans of the show?"

He had no idea what show they were talking about, so he gave a noncommittal shrug.

George accepted that as an answer. "Sarah says you came all the way from California."

"That's right." There was something odd about his pork chop, but it didn't taste like any poison he knew of, so he kept eating it anyway.

"You hitchhiked the whole way? Where'd it go wrong."

"Go wrong?" Mercury asked.

"Well, you're dressed in ripped up costumes and I didn't see any bags," he said. "You left somewhere in a hurry, I think."

"Fredericksburg." One of three relevant place names Roman actually knew.

"Damn. All the way from California, and it all goes south fifty miles from victory," he said with a nod. "Can't say I've ever been there myself."

"Consider yourself lucky." Roman told them before going back to his meal.

"So, how's the food?" Maddy asked.

A chorus of agreement, some real and some feigned, echoed through the room.

She nodded, then asked, "Do you work, or are you students?"

" _They're_ students," Roman answered, motioning toward Mercury, Emerald, and Neo. "Right now I'm between jobs. I used to work in acquisitions." Which was the most honest yet disingenuous way of describing what he really did.

"For what company?"

"A little store back in California. They're... well, I don't think they're going to be in business much longer." It wasn't in California and he was the reason why they wouldn't be in business much longer, but hey, a story is a story.

"That's a shame."

"Say, we've been a little out of the loop while we were traveling," Roman said, picking up his corn. "What's going on in the world?"

"We're still bombing the shit out of ISIS, refugees are flowing into Europe, and Trump's beating Jeb in the primaries. My money's still on Burnie, though."

"No way, he's too socialist," Brandon argued. "Either another Bush or another Clinton as President."

 _President of what?_ Roman almost asked, but they'd probably look at him like he was growing a second head.

"Nothing about the White Fang?" Emerald asked as casually as possible. She had no idea what George had just said.

"Is that some kind of furry convention?" George asked.

"It's a militant Faunus rights group," she answered, tone neutral.

"More like a Furry ISIS, dad," Sarah clarified.

Brandon shook his head. "Faunus al-Qaeda."

"What's a Faunus?"

"It's like a person with animal ears. From RWBY."

"Oh, okay, so it's not like a real thing. There isn't _really_ a furry ISIS," George wiped his brow with mock relief. He paused. "That's the web show with the red and blue robots, right?"

"No, that's Red Vs. Blue, and they're not robots."

"Wait, what?" Mercury asked, confused. Not just about Red Vs. Blue, but everything before it. He dared not ask any specific questions, though.

"You guys never watched Red Vs. Blue?" Brandon asked, surprised.

"Not every RWBY fan watches it," Sarah reminded him.

"I guess."

"Thank you for dinner," Cinder said for everyone, noticing that everyone had more or less finished and wanting to cut the increasingly strange conversation short. "Do you need any help-"

"Oh no, it's fine. You must be very tired. Sarah will show you to your room."

* * *

"Here you go!" Sarah announced, throwing the door open.

Their room was a large space in the basement, with dirty white walls and worn blue carpet. Two sleeping bags, a cot, and two air mattresses were on the floor, between a very deep TV, an old stereo, and a broken exercise bike.

"It's a little dirty but there's lots of space," she told her guests before heading back upstairs. She called down the staircase, "Feel free to call if you need anything!"

"Okay, good night."

"Good night!"

Emerald shut the door behind them. "Weirdos."

"So, we're in a strange home full of really weird people, in a city not part of any of the Kingdoms, which smells horrible by the way, everyone is talking complete and utter nonsense, and apparently they think we're not real," Roman ranted. He turned on Cinder. "What is it that you know that we don't?"

"Nothing, not now, but I will find out. We'll keep a low profile until we can get back on track. This is a small setback, nothing more. The plan will go-"

"Cut the grandstanding. I think this is little more than a small inconvenience," Roman shot back. He motioned to the wall behind them, or rather the large map on it. "Please turn your attention to the map of the world that clearly is not Remnant."

"It must be some kind of joke," she dismissed. "If this is another world, how do they know who we are?"

"Were you not listening? They think we're fictional characters."

"That makes no sense."

"None of this makes any sense."

"Let's face it, we got played. _You_ got played. And now we have absolutely no idea where the fuck we are. You have no idea what you're doing, and you refuse to admit it."

"Watch your tongue," Cinder snapped, eyes burning as she leaned toward the irritating thief. "We'll find a way back. We _will_ move forward."

" _You'll_ try," Roman corrected, refusing to flinch. "But you know what? Let's deal with it tomorrow. Goodnight." He turned and strutted toward the other side of the room.

"I'll do more than try."

"I think your boss is going off the deep end," Roman whispered to Mercury before tossing himself on the couch. Louder, he announced, "Goodnight."

* * *

Dawn was beginning to break when Braith and his four companions began to stir. All were Faunus, and though they wore the uniform of Gradient Corporation security, that was not really the group they belonged in. They were on a sidewalk, halfway into an alley.

"Boss, where are we?"

"Looks like Vale."

"Can't be Vale."

"How the hell did we end up here?"

"Quiet," their leader said, silencing them all. "Ditch the uniforms. We need to keep a low profile. Let's find out what's going on."


	13. Strangely Familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is both heavily compressed and delivered late. Blame real life factors; the end of semester rush is brutal. That, and this chapter was just hard to write. A mixture of lack of ideas, trying to fit everything in and make it flow, and general writer's block. I still think it's a bit disjointed, and I'm not happy with it in general, but this is as good as it's going to get.
> 
> I'm not going to promise anything for the Christmas break, but I'm going to try to get one more chapter out by the end of the year.

Roman Torchwick prided himself on being flexible.

Whether this was a different planet or not didn't really matter that much. Starting from zero was basically the same. They chose easy marks for pickpocketing, quickly racking up a few thousand in strange paper money. Hardly the most lucrative proposition, but if one had the skill, it always worked, and gave them something to work with.

The next step was to get some decent clothes. He still had class, after all, and neither their borrowed, rather _homely_ clothing nor the rags they had arrived in would do it. Roman chose a striped button-down shirt and grey slacks along with a bowler hat- his usual outfit was too thick for the summer heat. Neo chose a pink and white blouse and light brown pants, along with white heels that didn't improve her short stature much.

Feeling much more on track, they sat down at a small restaurant. Dairy Queen, the sign proclaimed. Of course Neo dragged him there. The petite woman had one hell of a sweet tooth, and Roman didn't mind obliging. _Grill and chill_ sounded like the perfect comfort food for the situation.

"Cinder knows more than she lets on," Roman told his partner, waving a chicken strip in the air. "She may be a lunatic, but a lunatic can still be a genius. The question is, does she know we know?"

Neo shrugged.

"You know what? Let her suspect all she wants. Her plan is going nowhere on an alien planet."

Neo looked at him skeptically.

"Do you have a better explanation?"

She shrugged, staring incredulously.

"Watch this." Roman turned around the booth, leaning toward the teenagers on the other side. "Excuse me. I know this is probably really weird, but I have a bit of a bet going on with her. Can you name four Kingdoms?"

"Uh..." one of them replied awkwardly. "Um... England?"

"It's the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Tom," one of the others corrected. "And uh, Saudi Arabia, that's a Kingdom. And I think Sweden's technically a Kingdom- do they have to be real monarchies where the King rules or just like places that think they're kingdoms?"

"It doesn't matter," Roman replied as casually as possible.

"Jordan's both," Tom added. "There's four right there."

"Okay, and what are the four basic types of Dust?"

He shrugged. "Fucked if I know, man."

His friend interrupted, "Wait, do you mean the dust that collects on shelves, or is this some kinda drug? Are you a narc?"

"Forget it. Thank you." Roman turned around, facing his partner. "Everyone knows what the four Kingdoms are, and everyone know about Dust. They didn't even think I was crazy for asking."

She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, apparently, no Dust. Maybe they just call it something else."

Neo crossed her arms.

"Sure, they could have been joking. Tell you what. After this, we can hit up a bookstore. Prove anything you want."

She made an odd motion with her hand.

"What about Cinder? Oh, we'll play her game, while it suits us. Then we'll skedaddle. For real this time. I promise."

She tossed her empty Blizzard cup onto the tray in front of them, an expectant look still on her face.

"And then what? We're adaptable. It doesn't matter where we are. I'm sure we can work something out. Maybe we can finally get rid of that crazy bitch."

* * *

"This isn't Atlas."

Braith knew, of course- at least he was pretty sure. But as the de facto leader of the group, he didn't want to mention it. Atlas was dangerous, but at least familiar. If this wasn't Atlas- or any of the Kingdoms, then he had no idea where here was.

He'd thought it was Atlas at first, that they'd somehow ended up back in the Kingdom. Maybe an old industrial area- that would explain the odd lingering smell and the crude traffic lights. It looked fairly normal- everything was in the Common Valic that all Kingdoms now spoke.

But that idea had quickly been dispelled. He couldn't recognize any of the cars, nor even guess at their manufacturers. They didn't look particularly old, just... odd. A few flags were flown or prominently displayed in windows, and he didn't recognize any of them. There were advertisements for various companies he didn't recognize, and when they'd briefly ducked into a convenience store they'd found

What wasn't foreign was how they were treated. Odd looks, hushed whispers, guarded glances and general rudeness. Wherever they were, it was no better than Atlas.

Thus, when one of the ragtag group of faunus had finally piped up, all Braith could manage was a resigned, "No. No, I don't think it is."

"So, it _is_ Vale?" the tallest- and most dim-witted, by Braith's reckoning- member of their group asked.

"It's not Vale," the sole woman of the group, a red panda faunus, told him. "My sister is studying in Vale. It's more like Atlas than here."

"So where the hell are we? Vacuo?"

"How would we end up in Vacuo?"

"It doesn't matter," Braith said firmly. "We need to find out where we are. Once we do that, we can figure out what to do. If there's a cell here, we can link up with them and they'll help us out."

"You sure?" the woman asked. "I mean, we did take this job, which isn't exactly a White Fang thing."

"Our brothers and sisters will understand," he insisted with a confidence he didn't really have. He waved his group forward. "Now, come on, let's get moving."

* * *

Cinder and her two companions followed a very similar path to Roman and his partner. Their first task was to acquire some of the local currency, which Emerald did easily- once they figured out that cash was paper and only credit cards were plastic. It was a simple matter to walk into a store and come out with new clothes. And after changing in a public washroom, they felt almost human again.

Unlike them, however, Cinder had taken the liberty of visiting a bookstore, emerging with a stack of local literature which she carried under one arm.

"You know something you didn't tell him," Emerald said casually to her boss as they strode down the street.

"What Roman doesn't know can't hurt him," Cinder told her compatriots.

"Which is?"

Cinder smirked. "They're here. All of them."

Her two companions stared at her. "What?"

"Spectral Dust."

"It's that really expensive stuff they wanted us to guard, right?" Mercury suggested.

"Oh, so ignorant," Cinder chided. "Do you know what Spectral Dust does? It's a very rare, very special form of Dust. One that can bend the very rules of reality. One that can even shift things between worlds, or so it has been hypothesized."

"Hypothesized?"

"Just a hypothesis, until now," Cinder answered, opening a magazine and flipping through it. "That's what happened to RWBY. That's what happened to us. We take care of them, reverse the process, and continue with the plan."

"Is that why everyone thinks we're not real?" he asked. Though he often played the part, he wasn't stupid. He could put two and two together. "Maybe they shared their stories, but nobody believed them."

"That is likely..." Cinder replied, slowing her pace and stopping. A smirk crossed her face. "This is even easier than I thought it would be."

"What did you find?" Emerald asked.

Wordlessly, she handed over the magazine, open to an advertisement three pages in. On it were the letters RTX, apparently an event judging by the location and details near the bottom of the page. Adorning it were several blue and red robots- perhaps armoured soldiers or cyborgs- and the four girls they were looking for.

"Looks like we have a party to crash," she announced quietly. "In the meantime, we'll enjoy our time on Earth. I'll admit, it's not how I imagined it."

"Imagined it?" Emerald questioned.

"Do you know the old legend? We speak of a different one now, but humanity did not always rise from Dust. Some believe that we came from another world. A world without Grimm, without Dust, primitive, yet peaceful."

"Seems a bit crude, but not primitive."

Cinder smirked. "Oh, if Atlas is really trying what I think they're trying... they're in for a big surprise. But it doesn't matter. They won't have the chance."

"What about the thief and his pet?" Emerald mentioned.

"There are three of us and two of them. Besides, Roman is a petty criminal who does what he's told, especially when there's money involved. Either he'll believe the story we give him, or he won't care about it anyway."

"And if he thinks he has the upper hand?"

"Let him think he has the upper hand. It'll only make him easier to manipulate," Cinder explained smugly. "Now, we have an operation to plan."

* * *

Braith had no idea how long it had been since their last meal, and half of the group wanted to get something to eat. He felt it was a bad idea- unnecessary exposure- but one of them suggested that they might be able to get more information this way and he reluctantly acquiesced.

The convenience store they ended up at was an unfamiliar one, one of the orange, green, and red 7-11 stores that seemed to pervade the city. Wordlessly, the entered through its glass doors, a chime irritatingly counting the five as they entered the building.

To their right was the cashier, a wide assortment of snacks and other sundries laid out in front of her. The left half of the store was lined with coolers containing various drinks. Shelves were stocked with snack foods between them, and drink machines were wedged against a food case in the rear-right corner of the store.

Braith didn't want to admit it, but he _was_ hungry. He grabbed a bottle of "Coca-Cola"- it wasn't his guilty-pleasure Schnee Cola, but any sort of pop was something he limited himself to having as a rare drink.

A stand displaying maps for sale piqued his curiosity. When he looked closer, his blood ran cold. One of them was labelled "the world". Except it was nothing like the world he knew, showing different continents in different places. A lot more states than he knew of and a lot more cities. He quietly examined the next, which showed a large union of states he wasn't familiar with. Either this was a sick joke or their situation was a lot worse than he thought.

No sense panicking everyone, at least not yet. He quietly grabbed one of each map, proceeded to pick a suspicious croissant from the self-serve food case, and lined up behind the rest of his group.

"I hope they take Lien," one of the taller faunus muttered.

"Everyone takes Lien," his comrade, a red panda faunus, replied. She stepped up to the cashier with a bag of chips and a bottle of water in her hands and wordlessly placed it on the counter.

The cashier greeted her with a warm smile, something unexpected from a human but nonetheless pleasant. "You guys here for RTX?"

"Huh?"

She scanned the items, till beeping each time. "Faunus, right?"

"The tail kind of gives it away, doesn't it?" she snapped, probably more snarky than she meant.

"Yeah, it's pretty nice." Was this human hitting on her? "Five seventy-six, please."

The faunus reached into her pockets and pulled out a five lien and a one lien card, tossing them on the counter.

The cashier looked down at the cards, then back up at the faunus. She laughed. "You're kidding, right?"

Braith was beginning to figure out what was happening, but his comrade remained clueless. "About what?"

The cashier picked up one of the lien cards, turning it over in her hand and flicking it. "These are pretty good. But I don't think my boss will be too happy if I take these as payment."

"They're not counterfeit," she insisted. "Scan them if you want."

"Look, man, I really don't want to call the cops on you, but there's cameras watching, and I need this job. You gotta give me real money."

"Are we going to take this from a human?" the faunus behind her snapped, stepping forward threateningly.

"Calm down," Braith urged. They'd all been refused service for garbage reasons before, but it was clear to him this was different. He stepped in front of them. "We don't have any currency on us. I'm sorry. We don't want to cause any trouble."

"What are you doing?" the red panda hissed into his ear. "You're selling us out to a human?"

"I'll explain later," he whispered, barely audible but clear enough to her sensitive ears.

"Wait, don't tell me you don't have any cash," the cashier interrupted. "You know what, fuck it. Let me take a picture with you guys and it's on me."

Braith weighed his options. On one hand, having a record of where they were and when they were there wasn't a good thing for people in his business. On the other hand, if they were really as lost as he thought they might be, did it really matter.

He made his decision. "Line up and smile."

The cashier grinned broadly, leaning over the counter and holding what looked kind of like a Scroll in front of them. A click and a beep eminated from the device, and pocketed the device again.

"Great! Awesome, thanks! Let me just ring all that in." She did as promised, pulling a few slips of paper from her wallet and stuffing them into the till.

Before they even left the store, the whispers started going around. As faunus, most of them could hear each others' words quite clearly. Some of them even knew it.

"Maybe humans aren't all bad."

"Why didn't she take our Lien?"

"What's going on? Why did she want our pictures?"

"What's RTX?"

"Don't you find it weird how she reacted to faunus? Like we're the special ones?"

"This might be more complicated than we thought," Braith told them, holding up the map. Before they could object, he added quickly, "Let's find RTX. Maybe we'll find answers there."

* * *

To say Brandon didn't trust his sister's new friends would be an understatement.

It wasn't the first time she'd done something similar, but this time it was different. Usually the people she met were weird, but not bad people. This time, though, he had a bad feeling around them. Everything just seemed wrong, like they were hiding something.

He'd briefly fantasized that they were, in fact, the bad guys from the show who had ended up in real life somehow. It was an entertaining thought, if nothing else.

But who were they, really? Were they really the lost cosplayers Sarah thought they were, or were they more nefarious? Were they scammers or thieves who would rob them blind? Psychopathic murderers that would kill them in their sleep? Drifters? Druggies? Terrorists?

They'd gone out for the day, but he was pretty sure they'd be back. Quietly, Brandon went downstairs. He'd already installed a certain app on his old phone, and it took him only a minute to find a good place to hide the device.

* * *

"Looks like a convention," Braith noted, observing the building from his vantage point on a nearby roof. "Big place. Looks like it'll hold thousands of people. But it's not open yet."

"What kind of convention?" the red panda faunus, Siena, asked from beside him.

Braith handed her his binoculars. "You tell me."

"Looks like animated characters," Siena observed, focusing on a large banner plastered on the side of the building. "Robots or guys in armour, a bunch of random characters that I don't recognize. Something about roosters and teeth- don't roosters have beaks?"

"Maybe that's the joke. Comedy festival?"

"Some joke," Siena muttered. "Braith, where the hell are we? I didn't say anything, but I saw those maps in your hand. And everything else seems to be off, too. Even the air. This place just feels wrong."

"I don't know," he admitted. "It might not be Remnant at all."

She put down the binoculars. "What? How is that possible?"

"I don't know that either. Something really strange was going on in that facility." He paused. "Anything tying this place to what we know?"

She picked up the binoculars again. "RWBY. Yeah, that's them. Remember those huntresses- students- that went missing in Vale?"

He nodded. "Uh-huh. It was on the news a few months back. You're seeing them."

"Hey, you saw the girls from Vale?" one of their group called from behind them.

"Maybe!" Siena called. She turned to Braith. "Drawings of them. What would be doing here?"

"Well, it's either a memorial, satire, or tasteless."

"Not that." Siena put down the binoculars again. "How would they know about that if this is another world? Just from that, it can't-"

"I can explain that," a sultry voice interrupted.

They turned to the source of the voice, a woman with brilliant amber eyes and deep black hair. Her stride was confident and intimidating. Braith recognized her as one of the hired guns that he didn't trust.

So did his partner. "I recognize you! You were at the base!"

"That's correct," she replied.

"Why are you here?" Braith asked.

The answer was dry, matter-of-fact. "It turns out they were experimenting with some technology capable of travelling to other dimensions. When the base exploded, it transported us here."

He took a moment to mull that over. It sounded like something way over his head, but it made more sense than most of what had happened so far. "But why are you _here_?"

"Because we have the same goal," she answered simply. "To return to Remnant."

"How do we know you're not lying?" Siena snapped.

Against his better judgement, Braith told them. "Because this isn't Remnant."

At that point, one of Braith's other comrades stepped forward and interrupted. "What? Braith, what do you mean this isn't Remnant?"

"It's not Remnant. Think about it. Everything is off. The flags are wrong, the cars are wrong, the brands are wrong, even the smells are wrong! And look!" He pulled out one of the maps he'd purchased. "Look at the world."

"Maybe we're just in a really backwards Kingdom nobody discovered yet?" he suggested.

"I think Braith might be right, Jay," Siena said softly.

"In the end, does it matter?" the strange woman asked. "Believe me or don't, but I know what they were doing. They were trying to build a portal to Earth."

"Like dirt?"

"Like the old legend," Braith corrected. It wasn't a common one, not like the Four Maidens, but he knew it. It was one of his grandfather's favourite tales. And he admitted that he hadn't even thought of it. "A peaceful world, without all the horrible things in the world. Without the Grimm."

"Not exactly what we expected, I'll admit," the woman added. "But legends rarely live up to their promise."

"So what do you want?" Siena asked. She knew the woman wasn't approaching them for nothing. There was always a catch.

"I know how to get back to Remnant, and I can bring you too _if_ you help me," she replied. Leading them was easy. "All I ask is for you help in a few days."

"What's the catch?"

"That you have to work for a human," the woman answered. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a stack of crumpled notes. "This is the money they use here. Stay hidden and meet me here again at sunup tomorrow and the day after."

Braith didn't trust her. He could tell that Siena trusted her less. But the rest of his group seemed ambivalent to positive, and he didn't have any better ideas.

"We're being played," Siena muttered. "She's lying to us."

Braith had no time to object, though, for the woman had already left. Reluctantly, he told his companions, "We'll do as she says. But watch out. I still have a bad feeling about this."

One rooftop over, Cinder joined up with her own companions. Emerald asked, "What was that about?"

The mysterious woman replied simply, "A distraction is always useful. I'm sure Roman will appreciate the gesture."

* * *

"Well, that was a strange day," Roman Torchwick remarked, leaning back on the couch he'd spent the previous night on. He turned to Cinder, "So, have you figured out your brilliant plan yet?"

She smirked- the same arrogant smirk Roman would wipe off her face in a heartbeat if it wasn't suicide. "That was never in question. In fact, it turns out this may be a boon to us after all."

"You think we're still on Remnant, don't you?" There was no answer. "Despite _everything_ being completely different. Hello? No Grimm, no Aura, no Dust. Look around."

"That's rich coming from someone whose theory is that we're not real," Mercury pointed out.

"Reality is relative, my green-haired friend," Roman snapped back.

"Roman." A flame appeared in her hands. "What are your options? Either we work together or you end up with nowhere to go. I have a way out of this. Do you?"

"I always have a way out," he insisted.

Staring at him. "You have a way out of a world that does not exist?"

"Do _you_?"

"You're wrong about this world, but I _do_ have a way back."

"Great." He rolled his eyes. "So, let me ask again. What's your brilliant plan this time?"

Emerald answered, "They're here."

"They?"

"The students I thought we got rid of in Vale," Cinder explained. "They will be here tomorrow. Once they're gone, we will be able to return to Vale and continue the plan."

"Wait, wait," Roman objected. "Why do you need to get rid of them?"

"You of all people should know what happens to people who've seen too much. Speaking of which..."

Neo smirked.

Roman glared at his partner. "No."

"You know what has to be done," Cinder reminded him. "Tomorrow, the witnesses will be gone. Then we can continue. You can go back to your criminal ways. Or perhaps there will be a place for you in the new world."

 _She's fucking nuts_ , Roman mouthed to his partner. He received a tiny nod in reply.

* * *

President of the United States was possibly the most stressful job on the planet, and certainly one of the busiest. He woke up with a briefing on what was going on in the world, followed by a day packed with meetings and decisions, some more important than others. All with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Somehow, he was supposed to maintain a healthy marriage and raise two kids, too.

At this hour, he should have been preparing for bed, but instead was occupied discussing the future of the nation's schools with the Secretary of Education. "As I've said, it's not a bad idea. I just don't think Congress-"

"Mister President, there's an urgent call for you," his secretary interrupted, poking her head in the door.

He sighed. "How important?"

Her answer was grave. "Gemstone/Ruin sir."

The President immediately stood. "I'm sorry, Arne, but this is going to have to wait."

"I understand, sir," the Secretary answered. This wasn't the first time that something more important had cut a meeting short, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. "Have a good night."

Once the Secretary had left, the President picked up his phone. He recognized the voice as one of the generals involved with Gemstone, though he couldn't recall which one. "Mister President. We have a possible intrusion event in the southern United States."

"How certain and where?"

There was a pause, with audible chatter as the general consulted his scientists. "Maybe fifty-fifty. The neutrino event could have been stellar neutrinos or an unrelated experiment. The scientists are still trying to figure it out. As for the location, sir, probably Texas, but possibly as far out as Wichita or Monterrey."

"Do you think it could be Cinder Fall?"

"That's a very distinct possibility, sir. Additionally, we believe that if they are here, they may intend to target a convention in Austin that we are currently observing. This convention prominently features RWBY and it is possible they may not make the distinction between fiction and reality."

"Jesus, you're talking about a potential terrorist attack."

"Yes, sir."

The President made his decision. "Declare Orange Ruin. Position whatever assets you need to, but keep it quiet."

"Posse Comitatus?"

"Do what you need to do. This is a potential foreign attack. If this does go south, we'll deal with the aftermath later."

"Yes, sir." The line clicked off.

The President rubbed his eyes tiredly. There would be no sleep tonight.


	14. Heroes and Villains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that the usual disclaimers should be repeated given the subject matter at hand. All characters fictional, no copyright infringement intended, it's a parody therefore I can do whatever I want, I'm not actually planning a terrorist attack, et cetera.
> 
> My favourite arc conceptually is quickly becoming my least favourite to actually write. I find the villains difficult as characters, I'm having trouble getting the chapters to flow nicely, and I have very little experience with most of the subject matter. Oh, and I keep writing myself in and out of corners. But I hope I eventually came out with something half-decent.
> 
> So, Sam and crew know about JNPR. How? RWBY told them, duh. It's a flagrant breach of opsec, but it's not like teenagers with phones from a looser world care very much about that. Also, remembering that characters are in relationships and then realizing you have no idea how couples actually behave... yeah.
> 
> Also, if you're looking for light and fluffies after the last episode... find another fanfic, because this is going to be basically the opposite of that.

"You don't want to do it, do you?"

Roman sighed, turning to face the annoying green-haired shit kid. "I'm a thief, not a murderer."

"You didn't have these reservations before, Roman," Cinder reminded him.

"I have standards," he replied. "I'll get violent if I have to. Otherwise, I'm happy to just disappear. It's a better, cleaner job if nobody gets hurt."

Emerald raised an eyebrow. "Which is why you have that psycho as your sidekick?"

Mercury was even more cynical. "In other words, you'll get your hands dirty if the money is good."

Roman dodged the question, knowing that the little shit wasn't far off the mark. "Let's just get this over with." He stood, picking up Melodic Cudgel as he did. "How do you want to play it?"

"We'll make it look like an accident, of course," Cinder replied matter-of-factly. She turned to her subordinates. "Get them and tie them up." Then to Roman: "Fuel."

Glad that he at least had the slightly less tasteless part of the operation, Roman crept out of the room toward the garage, Neo behind him. They could have easily set fire to the place with burn Dust- hell, Cinder could probably do it without, but it had to look like an _accident_. Things like cooking oil, cleaning solvents, gun lubricant. It wasn't like the police ever looked that closely, so they could probably just kick over a few chairs, but he was going to be _thorough_ , damn it.

The garage was a mess, filled with boxes of old junk, random tools and bits of computer strewn across old wooden workbenches. He quickly searched the shelves, pulling out container after container. Plastic bottle of car wax- nope. Spray bottle of blue window cleaner- maybe, but he could do better. Large white can of paint thinner with a fire symbol on the front. Perfect.

He grabbed the bottle and headed back into the house. Cinder was ruthlessly efficient, and all three members of the Poole family sat bound against the sturdy living room table- wait, three?

"Where's your mom?" Emerald asked, one of her gun-blade things pointed at Brandon's head.

"She's at work! Jesus Christ, who the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doing?" He thrashed uselessly against his bindings.

Roman tossed the can of paint thinner to his partner, who grinned as she poured the contents around the screaming captives and the living room table.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" Sarah screamed, thrashing against her bindings. "I thought you were my friends!"

"That's why you shouldn't trust strangers," Roman told her. He sighed melodramatically. "Picking up random strangers from the side of the road... what a brilliant idea."

Sarah's father begged, "Look, what do you want from us? They're gonna find you if you do this, but you can walk away right now and we'll make something up. Or, you know, we know some lawyers, maybe you can win the trial. If it's Maddy or the company you're after, I'm sure they can pay. I know powerful people"

Cinder shook her head. "This goes far above anything you could ever imagine." She smirked, eyes glowing. She lashed out with her hand, sending a tongue of flame toward the highly flammable mixture covering her captives.

* * *

"Sir, you don't have any tickets, and that weapon you're carrying is a banned item," the security guard insisted, holding up his hand.

Special Agent Daniel Gideon grumbled, irritated. Well, at least security was doing their job, though he had his doubts that they'd be able to stop an attacker who really wanted to get in. Keeping one hand on his rifle, the agent reached into a pocket on his vest with the other and pulled out his badge. "If you have any questions, you can call the field office in Dallas."

The guard scrutinized the badge for a moment before waving the agent and his team through. "Enjoy the show, sir... um, well... is there a terror threat or something?"

"Don't worry. Most likely, we'll go in, take a look, and leave."

"Um..." He didn't sound convinced, and if the armed agent was being perfectly honest with himself, neither was he.

Daniel had only been briefed a few days prior, and everything he'd been told bordered on insanity. He still didn't believe anything they'd said about interdimensional travellers. It was science fiction- science fantasy, really. Given the nature of the event, they could be what amounted essentially to plainclothes riot cops, but if the threat was that significant, shouldn't they be calling it off entirely?

No, most likely it was an exercise, but what kind of exercise and what kind of moron, completely out of touch with reality politician came up with it was something he didn't really want to know. With that being said, he was told to take it seriously, so he did. They watch their visitors, watch the people interracting with their visitors, and intervene in the very unlikely event it was necessary. There was also a possible terror threat on the horizon, but that was regarded as more remote.

He double-checked the sling on his rifle to make sure it was secure. Positive control of your weapon at all times. They weren't the only people carrying assault rifles, but theirs had the distinction of being real. The last thing they needed was some dumbass grabbing a "prop" and blowing a kid's brains out.

"So what do we do if someone asks why we're carrying assault rifles?" a female agent asked from behind him. Like Daniel, she carried an M4 assault rifle and wore heavy body armor.

He shrugged, defeated. "Pretend you're from Rainbow Six."

* * *

"I didn't think I grew this much..." Ruby muttered to herself, fumbling with her combat skirt. Once she was satisfied with the fit, she pulled Crescent Rose out of her duffel bag and clipped it to its spot on the small of her back. "And I forgot how heavy this is."

"Man, we're so out of practice," Yang remarked from beside her. She clipped Ember Celica onto her wrists, the familiar weight both comfortable and uncomfortable. "Good thing these are just really expensive props- or at least everyone's supposed to _think_ they are."

"I'd still feel better with a real weapon," Blake argued. She shook her head. "But you know what? This isn't Remnant. We're not going to get in any fights... right, Yang?"

"Of course not! I can be responsible, you know. Besides, it's not like they're loaded."

"Just remember to stay in character," Weiss reminded her.

She replied snarkily, "I'm Yang Xiao Long pretending to be Linda Anderson pretending to be Yang Xiao Long."

"This _is_ a bit strange," Weiss acknowledged.

"With any luck at all, we'll get to meet the people who created the show that just happens to be more or less the same as our lives, yet at the same time isn't. It's more than a bit-" Blake was cut off by a loud thump.

"There may be lots of bad stuff happening in the world, and maybe the bad guys will show up, but not today! Today is our day! Today is fun day!" Ruby declared excitedly from atop the coffee table, pumping her fist in the air for emphasis.

"A little late on the delivery, Rubes," Yang told her from the door of their hotel room.

"Damn it!" Ruby zipped after her, barely stopping to shut the door behind her.

* * *

"So, what's the plan?" Braith asked, a noticeable edge to his voice. He didn't trust the strange woman, but he was still lost, still confused, and sleep-deprived from trying to spend the night curled up against the side of a building.

"It's simple, really," she replied, in a tone that signalled that it definitely wouldn't be. "We'll sneak in around the back. Give us two hours. We will eliminate as many of the guards as possible. Then fight your way in through the front door. There won't be much resistance. Take advantage of the panic."

He immediately asked, "Why?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"There's something very important that I need locked away inside," Cinder replied smoothly. "Without it, there's no way back."

"And why is it in there?" Siena interrupted, motioning to the building.

"If you wanted to hide the link to another world, what better place than in plain sight?" she asked rhetorically. "It's there. Hold up your end of the deal, and I'll hold up mine."

"Fine," Braith reluctantly agreed. "I'm only doing this because I have no choice."

"Good," she replied, turning to leave. "I'll see you in two hours."

* * *

"Wow, look at those lines," Yang remarked, pointing out the mass of people standing outside the convention hall. "Hey, Weiss, do you know what lines are?"

The heiress glared at her. "Yes, Yang, I've technically been here longer than you have."

"Look at all of them..." Ruby said quietly, glancing at a rather tall girl wearing a copy of her own outfit. "This is weird, guys. And there's people looking at us, too."

Yang clapped a hand on her shoulder. "No backing down now." She waved to a group of knockoff Yangs. "Hey, guys!"

Two of them waved back. "Hi."

She dropped her arm. "Okay, yeah, it's a bit weird. But kind of awesome, too, when you think about it."

"Hey!" a familiar voice shouted. "Guys, over here!"

"Okay, is that the real Jaune or someone with a really similar voice?"

"It looks like JNPR," Ruby said.

Weiss pointed out another version of the team at the opposite end of the block. "So do they."

Yang's phone buzzed in her jacket pocket, and she fished it out, quickly checking the new text message. "It's the real deal."

Ruby asked, "Wait, what was that? Who says?"

"It's the people watching us," Blake reminded them, glancing upward.

"Come on, let's go!" Ruby urged, not even pausing to hear Blake's response. She waved to Jaune. "Over here!"

"Hello," Pyrrha greeted, waving daintily as she approached. Her other hand was intertwined with Jaune's, something which Yang immediately noticed. She shot the other girl a knowing wink.

"Group hug time!" Nora shouted, loud enough for the block to here. Without a care in the world, she squeezed all four members of the other team together.

"Nora..." Ren sighed, facepalming.

"I was worried we wouldn't be able to find you guys," Jaune told them. "There's so many people here. And the ones dressed up like us are actually kind of creepy."

"Hey, cool, Arkos cosplayers!" someone interrupted, taking a picture of them.

"Okay, scratch that, everyone is creepy."

"You guys are so lame," Nora pouted. "It's not creepy, it's awesome!"

"Yeah, you know what, this is a bit weird, but it's gonna be fun, too," Jaune agreed, shaking his head. "Let's go."

* * *

The inside of the hall buzzed with energy. Throngs of excited people, some dressed up and most not, weaved their way between brightly lit, boldly coloured stalls. Loud conversation mixed with the soundtracks of games and movies as well as the occasional announcement. The place was alive, energetic, and seemed far bigger than it really was. It was a foreign experience for the former Beacon students, and the sensations filled them with excitement.

"Hey, over here!" another familiar voice shouted, breaking them out of their reverie.

"Great, who is it now?" Weiss complained.

"It's Sam!" Ruby answered.

"Holy shit, you guys made it here, too!" Sam exclaimed.

"Well, yeah, they've been talking about it for weeks," Isaac pointed out, surprised.

"I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who gets those message," Cliff reminded him.

Sam glared at him. "Why didn't you tell anyone else?"

He shrugged. "I figured it would be more or less self-evident."

"So, how are you guys doing?" Sam asked the "cosplayers".

"Pretty good," Ruby replied. "You know, it's still weird being here, but we're doing okay. And today we're just going to have fun-"

"Stuffed sloth!" Nora exclaimed suddenly, grabbing Ren and dragging him off into the crowds.

"Nora, wait!" Jaune shouted, running after her.

Pyrrha followed, hot on his heels. She called to the others, "We'll catch up later!"

"Oh, Nora, never change," Isaac laughed.

"Yeah."

"Hey, we're gonna go enjoy the show," Sam told them. "You guys should, too. This is gonna be an awesome day. Just sit back, relax, and let the weirdness flow around you."

"Thanks, see you around!" Ruby replied, waving with one hand and dragging Weiss with the other.

After they had left, Cliff asked quietly, "What does that even mean?"

* * *

"All I'm saying is that if we get the wrongs ones again, it's gonna be awkward. Again," a brown-haired man said to the woman walking beside him, English accent evident in his voice.

"Come on," the woman, distinguished by long, dirty blonde hair, said to him. She motioned with her hands. "Even if they weren't the real thing, we totally made their day?"

"Just... maybe ask first, this time?"

She turned, tapping a Ruby cosplayer standing with the rest of her "team" on the shoulder. "Hey, are you Ruby, Anna, Bella and Linda?"

"Terrible delivery."

"Yeah, that's us," the girl replied with a very familiar voice that sent chills down the woman's spine.

"Weiss" turned, staring at the duo with icy blue eyes outside the range of human norms and a scar that no amount of makeup could quite properly replicate.

"Yeah, that's them," the Englishman said quietly.

"Welcome- I guess, a belated welcome to Earth, too." The woman smiled and waved them along. "The crew is _dying_ to meet you. Are you ready to meet everyone?"

"A long time ago," Yang replied with a voice nearly identical to her own.

* * *

Emmett Lyons frowned as he read the report.

The chief of the Gemstone station in Austin had been looking forward to this- it was supposed to be an easy assignment with a happy ending. Watch the foreigners- the current euphemism for their interdimensional travelers- and make sure they don't get into any trouble. They'd have fun, the security team could mostly relax, hell, maybe they'd even get some free swag out of it.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. There was possibility of another emergence in the southern United States, and the Austin office had been put on alert. That meant they weren't just dealing with their foreigners but also with a new potential threat. And if the police report in his hand meant what he thought it meant, it wasn't just a potential threat but a confirmed one.

He flagged down an officer who passed by his desk. "Des, have you seen this?"

"No."

"Read."

Des took the report, skimming through it. "Burned to death. Holy shit."

Emmett nodded. "Get Ms. Poole here now. If they try to stall, kick them upstairs. National Security."

"Yes, sir."

He didn't even wait for the junior officer to scurry away before picking up his secure phone. Washington needed to know about this, and they needed to know yesterday.

* * *

It wasn't instant, but it was close to it. Most of the Gemstone-cleared staff were on alert and remained at the White House. As soon as the call came in, the President, key members of his Cabinet, and several military and intelligence officers gathered in the Situation Room located in the West Wing.

With his staff gathered, the President pressed a button the secure phone, switching it into speakerphone mode. "This is the President speaking. Tell us what you know."

"We received a police report describing a family- the father and both children- burned to death in a suspicious house fire in an Austin suburb," Emmett's voice replied. "Madeline Poole- that's the mother, who was at work- stated that they had house guests. The police report doesn't go into detail but the descriptions match Roman Torchwick, Neopolitan, Cinder Fall, Emerald, and Mercury Black. We're already bringing her in for questioning."

"This is as close to confirmation as we're going to get," the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs quietly told the President.

He rubbed his temples, tired and stressed. "Declare Red Ruin. Give me options."

"Where are they headed?" the Secretary of Defense asked.

"We already know." the National Security Advisor replied. "As much as this makes them seem like comic book villains, it's fairly likely that Cinder will try to finish off RWBY."

"It's not real."

"They don't know that," the Secretary of Homeland Security quietly added.

"You have a mentally unstable individual going through some psychological phenomenon we don't understand, suddenly finding herself in a completely different world. You think she's going to care about the difference?"

The President held up a hand. He turned to Leon Fowler, a stocky man wearing the strips of an Air Force Major General. "I want to know what you think."

He chewed his lips for a moment. "It's likely, but not certain that's where they're headed. They're definitely in the city, and it's a good place to start looking. Either we'll have a lot of trouble picking them out of the crowd or they'll announce their presence loudly. My money's on the latter."

"What do you think they're going to do?"

"That's hard to say. We don't know her plans, or how much she's affected by transition shock. She may try to kill our visitors, or as many bystanders as possible."

"Jesus Christ," SecDef breathed.

"Recommendations?"

"Alert local authorities and current assets on the ground. Get Delta in the city and ready to go, along with support from Army gunships and Air Force drones with precision weapons. If this goes hot, they'll need it. Put the National Guard on standby in case things get out of control."

"Come on, it's five people!"

"No, Mister Secretary, it's five extremely lethal weapons with advanced capabilities that just happen to look and act human."

"What about the visitors?" the National Security Advisor asked. "Do we give them live ammo?"

He considered that for a moment. "It won't do more harm than good."

She looked at the President, who nodded.

"What kind of collateral damage are we looking at?"

"We don't know," the General admitted. "We don't know how durable the threat is. It depends on how much ordinance we have to drop on them to take them down."

The Secretary of Defence interrupted, "I hate to be the devil's advocate here, but what if we're wrong? What if they're not here, or they don't do anything?"

The President shook his head. "We can't take that chance. If this blows up, I want to be ready. We need to be ready."

* * *

"Ready to admit you have no idea?" Roman asked sarcastically for the third time.

Cinder didn't respond, ignoring the thief that was beginning to grate on her nerves. A small part of her grudgingly admitted that he had a point. Getting inside was easy. Scale the building, cut a hole in the roof access, go down the stairs and walk out onto the floor. Actually _finding_ their targets among all the lookalikes was proving to be much more difficult.

He continued to pester. "How much time do we have left, again?"

"We still have time." Again, though incredibly irritating, the thief had a point. By her scroll, they had about thirty minutes left. It was doable, but she liked having a better margin. She had a backup plan, but it was not ideal.

"Hey, you guys look great," Emerald called to a group of cosplayers as they passed by. "Do you think we could get a picture together? Heroes and villains."

"Sure, that'd be great!" "Ruby" replied. They paused briefly to gaggle together, and Mercury took their picture with his iPhone- actually, some random girl's iPhone that Emerald had pulled out of her back pocket half an hour prior.

Once they had left, Cinder shook her head. "They looked close, but the voices were wrong. Let's keep searching."

Neo strode up to them, an ice cream cone in her hand.

"Where did you even get that?" Roman asked. "You know what? Forget I asked."

She tugged on his sleeve, motioning to the other side of the hall.

Roman nodded and turned to the rest of the group. "We should try the booths over there. Lots of RWBY types gathering around some pieces of red cardboard."

"Ruby, watch-" they heard a familiar voice shout before a red blur rounded the corner and slammed into Cinder, knocking her to the ground.

"Ruby, be more careful!" Weiss screeched at her partner. "That's the fourth time!"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," Ruby apologized, both to her partner and the woman she'd run into. "I was just so excited and-"

"It's alright," Cinder excused, trying very hard to make her voice not sound like her own.

"Can I-"

"No, we're in a hurry too. Late to meet some of our friends," she replied, moving past them with the rest of her group behind.

"Those were our targets, weren't they?" Mercury asked quietly.

Cinder smirked. "Don't let them out of your sight."

* * *

Special Agent Todd Castello frowned as he listened on his phone. The convention wasn't really his style- he was more a renaissance fair kind of guy- but he'd been managing to enjoy it more than the average field assignment. What he heard sapped all the enthusiasm he had.

"Yes, sir. I'll get the ball rolling," he replied tersely before ending the call. He walked briskly and purposefully, searching for a security guard in the crowds of attendees. The sheer size of the crowds and the variety of outfits made it difficult.

Finally, he gave up and grabbed a tall, skinny guy with glasses wearing a shirt that identified him as a volunteer for the event. He was a kid, not one of their plants- that would have been too easy. "Special Agent Todd Castello, FBI. Where's your security?"

The colour drained from his face. "Umm..."

"Just find me a guard," he repeated, more gently.

"Okay," he squeaked, shuffling off toward the entrance. He waved to one of the guards at the front with a scrawny arm. "Bob! Bob!"

"Hold on," the guard said to the woman he had been talking to. He turned to the duo. "What is it?"

"Todd Castello, FBI." He showed his badge. "Take me to whoever's in charge, I'll explain on the way."

* * *

"We've given her two hours," Braith said quietly, putting down his binoculars. "Let's move."

"Braith-"

"We've been over this, Siena. It's take our chances with her or give up. Besides, we're dead anyway."

"Why?" she insisted. "Maybe this is a better world anyway. Who says we have to go back to Remnant?"

"Faunus don't even _exist_ here, at least as far as I can tell, so how would things be better here?" Braith retorted. "Look, either you're with us or against us. We don't have the luxury of debating this. Do you trust me or not?"

She sighed, picking up her rifle. "If this goes wrong, it's on you."

"I know." Braith picked up his own rifle and vaulted over the side of the building. The drop was only a few stories, and he rolled as he landed, bringing his weapon up in a half-crouch.

He took a deep breath, took aim, and fired the first shot.


	15. Of Gods And Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RWBY fights are hard to write. Also, I greatly underestimated how long this fight was going to be. I thought I'd have trouble filling in one chapter, but it turns out I could have made two chapters out of it. It's not perfect, but it's still probably my favourite chapter of Convergence so far.
> 
> I'm hoping to get the next chapter out within the next two, rather than three, weeks. We'll see, but I already know what I'm going to put in it. Some of the other loose ends will be tied up and some of the questions answered.

**1** **5** **:** **Of Gods And Men**

The moment he heard the sharp, familiar crack, Special Agent Castello realized they were too late. Instinctively, he drew his pistol from under his jacket, holding it at the ready. He quickly scanned for the shooter. The sound came from the entrance, but he couldn't tell exactly where.

"Shots fired, shots fired!" he shouted into his radio.

"Oh god, what do I do, what do we do?" the security guard beside him asked, panicking.

"Calm down, kid," Castello said firmly. "Get on your radio, tell you boss we have at least one active shooter. You need to evacuate the building, and do it now."

"Okay... I'll do that."

Castello scanned the area again, cringing when he heard more gunshots. Definitely coming from the entrance. There was shouting coming from that direction, too, but it seemed most of the crowds didn't know what the shots were, because panic had yet to set in. He knew all too well that wouldn't last. Staying low, he crept around the stalls toward the front door.

What he saw was far worse than he thought it would be. He counted at least six- maybe twice that- faunus in White Fang masks carrying strange rifles and advancing through the entrance. Which left another burning question: where was Cinder?

He retreated with the security guard, leaving the civilians at the entrance to their fate. He hated himself for it, but there was nothing he could do. Not with only an automatic handgun and a security guard for backup.

* * *

"Sideline, we have unknown hostiles, uh... engaging the guards outside the building." He held back a feeling of horror and lined up his telescopic sight with one of the odd attackers. As he watched, a bright flash erupted from the dog-eared man's strange rifle and one of the guards fell dead. "Request permission to engage."

The reply was terse and hasty. "Permission granted, fire at will."

"Solid copy." The sniper pulled the trigger, the Barrett M82 rifle recoiling hard into his shoulder as it sent a .50 caliber semi-armor-piercing high-explosive incendiary bullet toward his target. He corrected his aim and fired twice more in quick succession. Normally, that was overkill for anything but an armored car.

The quick burst staggered the man, but he got up again, shouting to his comrades to move forward. The sniper tried to line up for another shot, but a support beam was in his way. He changed targets to a short woman with a long tail and round ears and pulled the trigger twice more. One of the other snipers had chosen the same target, and she collapsed to the ground with a bullet hole in her chest as her comrades continued to advance.

By the time the sniper managed to reload his rifle, the hostiles had all clued in and advanced quickly into the building. He cursed to himself. "No shot, no shot, hostiles are inside the building."

* * *

Cinder smirked as soon as she heard the shots. "Now."

Roman was the first to act, raising Melodic Cudgel and firing off three flaming rounds toward the still-oblivious girls. His shots missed, but set a stand full of figurines on fire. Emerald was next, leaping forward, drawing her pistols, and unleashing a burst toward the leader of the team.

Bystanders were confused. Some of them panicked, especially near the burning figurine stand, and began to run for the exits. Others were intrigued by what they thought was a cosplay show of some sort and stood around to watch.

Ruby reacted quickly, drawing Crescent Rose and extending the weapon into scythe form. She took aim and pulled the trigger- and was rewarded with a hollow click. Her eyes went wide in horror as she realized that she didn't have any ammunition at all. She swung around the scythe, leaping out of the way as storm of bullets flew toward her. "Guys, a little help here!"

"With what?" Yang shouted, Ember Celica extended but useless.

"Uh, nevermind, run!" Ruby shouted, taking off in a blur of rose petals.

"Come on!" Blake grabbed Weiss, pushing her under a booth displaying comic books. Seconds later, a flaming shot slammed into it and started another fire. The monochrome duo jumped to their feet and dashed away from the booth toward their leader.

"What the hell are you doing!" Yang shouted, running after them.

"We can't fight them! We have to get out of here!" Blake shouted back.

"Come on!" Ruby shouted from up ahead, pivoting around a corner with her scythe. They emerged into a very confused crowd, and to their horror Emerald and Mercury were already there- they'd become turned around at some point.

* * *

Meeting the voice actors that portrayed his friends was definitely the highlight of Jaune Arc's day, both for its sheer awesomeness and its sheer weirdness. They hadn't had much of a chance to talk, but he could tell they were excited to meet the real JNPR, and some of that rubbed off on his team.

"I still can't believe you guys-" Jaune began, but stopped after hearing a series of dull cracks. "What's that noise?"

The blonde woman- she voiced Yang and he could tell- shrugged. "It's probably just-"

She was cut off by a plainclothes FBI agent grabbing her and forcefully dragging her toward the nearest exit. Two more grabbed the other voice actors and pushed them forward.

"Hey, what's going on?" the black-haired woman who sounded kind of like Blake asked.

"We have a major terrorist attack in progress," the agent stated tersely. "You need to come with us, right now."

He turned to the blonde-haired teenager behind her. "Are you Jaune Arc?" the agent asked. "The real Jaune Arc?"

"Uh, yeah," he replied to the odd question.

The agent pushed a black cloth bag into his hands. "Get this to your friends. Now."

"What's in the bag?" Nora asked, immediately ripping it open. Her eyes widened. "Hey, I missed you!"

"It's ammunition," Pyrrha observed, grabbing a few magazine she recognized as her own. She tossed a few green ones to Ren before taking the bag from Nora and zipping it up. "Jaune... we're the last line of defence."

"Then we're not going to let these people down. Let's move!" Jaune ordered, dramatically unsheathing his sword and transforming into his shield.

* * *

Yang dashed through the crowds, her partner in tow. What she was doing felt wrong. She could hear gunshots, screams, feel the panic around her. A tragedy in the making they were doing nothing to prevent. They should be fighting the bad guys, not running away. But they'd be outmatched by Cinder and her minions even if they weren't next to unarmed and horribly out of practice. She smashed her fist into the metal frame of a stall in frustration, buckling it.

She heard her partner say, "Yang, watch-" before being interrupted by a nearby gunshot. A split second later the blonde brawler felt something slam into her side.

Mercury Black, the grey-haired and grey-clad minion of Cinder's, stood beside a destroyed stall, cocky smirk on his lips. He stared down the duo as they turned to face him. "Come on, Blondie, running away already?"

Blake answered him. "What do you want with us? You're delusional if you think this world is going to let you get away with this."

He shook his head. "Oh, Belladonna-"

"Ohmygod, Mercury!" a green blur screeched before slamming into what she thought was her favourite character.

Yang opened her mouth to shout something at the stupid girl, but it was too late. In a series of smooth movements, Mercury pivoted, kicked the girl's legs out from under her, and slammed his foot down on her head, blasting it into a barely defined mass of bone and flesh.

Another girl shrieked as what had been a confused crowd dissolved into panic, running away from the murderer and his opponents in whatever direction they could. A few were frozen in fear, including a young woman staring in shock at Mercury and the body by his feet.

"Earthicans," Mercury tutted. "They're so... squishy." As if to make his point, he kicked toward the screaming woman, triggering the gun in his boot. Splotches of red appeared on her chest, her screaming turning to gurgling as she collapsed to the floor.

"You son of a bitch!" Yang screamed, bringing up her empty Ember Celica and dashing forward toward the merciless killer.

Blake swore to herself as her partner launcher herself into the fray. The brawler's fury caught her opponent off-guard, and she managed to land a few strikes before Mercury managed to put up and effective defence. The tables turned quickly, with the assassin parrying every strike and managing to land several hits. He moved quickly and precisely, and unlike his opponent, he had loaded weapons to help him out.

Quickly, she weighed her options. Trying to drag her partner away would be futile- the blonde was stronger than her, especially when pissed off. If she jumped into the fight, they'd probably still lose to Mercury, but maybe they could buy enough time to escape.

Something cold and hard burrowed into the back of her neck. An unpleasantly familiar voice told her, "Not so fast, kitty cat."

She would not give in so easily. Focusing her Semblance, Blake created a shadow clone of herself, drawing Gambol Shroud and turning to face her green-haired opponent.

Emerald raised her own weapons, unfolding the scythe blades. If she were to be completely honest with herself, she'd be disappointed if the cat faunus hadn't tried to fight.

Blake moved first, determined not to let her opponent gain the upper hand. She ignored the sense of dread in the back of her mind and swung Gambol Shroud in a wide arc. Her opponent easily sidestepped the attack, swinging her own weapons and landing two nasty slashes across Blake's back.

Creating another shadow clone, Blake circled around, swinging with her blade and its sharpened sheath in quick succession. The first hit landed, but the second missed as the green-haired girl stepped around it and blasted away with her pistols. Blake was quick and managed to avoid most of the attack with a shadow clone and a quick roll, but she knew she couldn't keep it up for much longer.

"HYAAAAAAAH!" a high-pitched shriek interrupted. Neither Blake nor Emerald could tell whether it was male or female, but the question was quickly answered when a heavy sword crashed down on Emerald's back.

She stumbled, pivoting on one foot and dropping low to avoid the Jaune's clumsy strikes. She blocked a strike from Blake with one of her pistols, opening fire on the blonde with the other.

"Blake!" Pyrrha called, tossing her pair of small black rectangles. She instantly recognized them and slammed one into the magwell of Gambol Shroud before slingshotting the slide.

"Nora smash!" With a mighty battle cry, the girl in pink descended on Mercury, slamming Magnhild into the floor where he had been a split second earlier. She pulled the trigger, launching herself back into the air along with a significant quantity of dust and pulverized masonry.

"Bring it on," Mercury said cockily. He dived out of the way as the two girls rushed at him, grinning in satisfaction as they clashed with each other. The moment was short lived. While he had been distracted by Nora's arrival, Pyrrha had given Yang strips of ammo for her gauntlets.

She blasted away at the grey assassin, who felt several hits before he managed to get out of the way- bringing himself into the path of Magnhild in the process. The blast sent him to the ground, and he jumped to his feet, backing away slightly and preparing for another onslaught.

"Pyrrha, Ren, go find Ruby and Weiss!" Jaune ordered, voice probably more confident than he felt. "We can handle this!"

"Okay!" Pyrrha acknowledged, darting away with Ren behind her. As an afterthought, she shouted to the people still watching the fight, "Please get out of here! This is real!"

"You can handle it?" an ominous voice echoed. Cinder calmly strutted into the battle, her red dress having seen better days but eyes glowing as bright as ever. "Are you so sure about that?"

* * *

Captain John Beckworth seemed the very image of a professional soldier, holding onto a rail on the inside of the UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter as it bounced through the morning air. Inwardly, he was nervous about the mission, even if he wouldn't admitted.

It wasn't even a typical mission for Delta. Usually, this would be handled by the SEALs overseas and the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team within the United States. But they _were_ trained for it, they _had_ practised for the scenario, and they were as ready as they could be.

Which, admittedly, wasn't very ready at all.

"Sixty seconds," the pilot told him.

"Remember, you are to take down the targets at all costs," he told his men, checking the large weapon in his hands. "Rifles won't do shit against the people we're up against. Use the Punisher even if there are civilians in the blast radius."

Officially the XM25 Counter Defilade Target Engagement System, the Punisher was created to give ground troops more effective firepower. It was a 25mm semiautomatic grenade launcher, but that was only half the system. The other half was a computerized sight with an automatic rangefinder and smart rounds that could be set to explode above the enemy.

It was only one of many specialized weapons they carried on this mission. They swapped out their usual M4 carbines for higher caliber silenced ones built on the same platform, and several members of the team carried the XM25, 40mm revolver grenade launchers, or even AT4 anti-vehicle weapons. He knew the FBI had a special surprise of their own, but his team was not equipped with it.

"Descending." The pilot announced. Stomachs lurched at the helicopter plunged toward the ground, decelerating at the last minute to hit the pavement at a safe if uncomfortable velocity.

Beckworth threw the door open and jumped to the ground. "Striker on the ground. Moving to intervene."

* * *

"So, how are we going to get out of this?" Weiss asked her partner. They stood back to back, weapons raised and as ready as they could be. They were in a corner of the hall, with Roman Torchwick blocking one approach and Neo blocking the other. They advanced slowly, clearly savouring the moment.

"Help is coming," Ruby said quietly. "We just have to stall."

Weiss nodded. She shouted at their opponents. "What do you want from us? You'll never get out of here alive. Is killing us really that important to you?"

"Oh, it's nothing personal, you understand," the thief told her, raising Melodic Cudgel. "Just business."

"How much is Cinder giving you?" Ruby asked.

His answer was quick. "More than you can, Red." He pulled the trigger, sending a flaming projectile toward the duo. They separated and dodged, forming back together again a few feet over.

"You can walk away from this, Torchwick," Weiss pleaded. "You're a criminal, not a maniac. Just walk away. Disappear."

"And they'll hunt me to the ends of the world," Roman reminded her. "Nice try. I'll admit, I don't care about her grand plans. But Cinder had the only offer, and it's not a bad one. Better the demon you know than the demon you don't and all that."

"There's no way back," Ruby shouted, connecting the dots. "She's lying to you! We've been stuck here for a year!"

"That's what you think-" Roman began, but was cut off by a spinning piece of metal slamming into the side of his face.

"Pyrrha!" Ruby shouted excitedly.

"Ruby, catch!" the red-haired warrior shouted, tossing the younger girl a magazine for her rifle. Using her semblance, she retrieved her shield, dropping into a fighting stance and preparing to take on the thief.

Ren came leaping over a stall, landing beside Weiss and silently handing her a familiar pouch. He raised StormFlower in Neo's direction. "It's your Dust. I'll cover you."

Roman smiled thinly. "That's more like it! Now things are getting interesting."

* * *

Agent Castello knew the firefight would be a horribly lopsided one the moment it began. On his side was himself, two members of an FBI SWAT team, an off-duty sheriff's deputy, and a few armed rent-a-cops. At stake were three dozen civilians, some of them wounded, and three badly injured officers they were trying to evacuate. Against them was a half dozen White Fang, between them and the only usable exit.

There were others, but they were blocked by fire, debris, or fighting. What had been brightly coloured stalls offering every facet of nerd culture were now collapsed, trampled, and smashed. An acrid haze pervaded the hall, produced by burning cloth, paper, and equipment. Fortunately, the fires were contained by the sprinkler system now soaking parts of the convention center, at least for the moment.

He was mulling over the situation, peeking over a stall at the White Fang when the leader- Castello guessed it was their leader- of the group noticed him. Or perhaps the security guard behind him. Bullets peppered the walls behind them as the faunus terrorists opened fire on them.

"This is Castello, we are under fire, repeat, we are under fire! I have civilians, requesting immediate assistance!" He raised his rifle and returned fire, focusing on the leader. His allies did the same, weapons chattering away. He saw some of them go down.

"Standby, Striker is on the ground and advancing into the building." That gave him some hope. They just needed to-

Castello screamed in pain as a Dust-charged bullet lanced through his left shoulder. His weapon clattered uselessly out of his arms, and he collapsed to the ground, nearly blacking out from the pain. Whatever it had hit, it was something important, and he could vaguely feel something wet under him.

He fought to stay conscious. At some point- his sense of time was totally trashed, but in fact it was only seconds later- the shooting stopped. He craned his neck slightly and forced his eyes open. The faunus were advancing toward them, weapons pointed at the civilians but no longer firing. One of them, a woman with small white ears and a bushy orange tail, marched up to and stood above him.

She pointed her gun at his head, hesitated, then lowered her weapon before turning to the leader of her group. "What the hell are we doing, Braith? We just shot a dozen kids with fake guns! And these guys? These guys were trying to get out, and we shot first!"

The leader- Braith- replied, "We didn't know that, Siena. This is violent business and some-"

"We didn't know anything!" Siena roared. "We just walked in and started shooting on the off chance that we'd

"You're losing your resolve now? This is not the time to have a change of heart!" a third voice shouted.

"Gods damn it, Urdin! What have these people done to us? We have no idea where we are, what we're doing, or why we're doing it anymore! This isn't fighting for our people! This is pissing off another Kingdom, maybe another _planet_. What the hell are they going to think of faunus now?"

The third voice- Urdin?- again: "If you won't do it, I will."

"No," Braith interrupted.

"No?" Urdin objected angrily.

There were a few seconds of silence, then he thought he heard, "I was wrong."

"I can't believe it!" Urdin shouted. "What the hell, Braith? You're betraying the White Fang!"

Braith: "Your Fang. Not mine. This isn't the Fang I joined."

Siena: "It doesn't matter-"

"It matters to me. It matters to _us_."

The last thing Castello heard was a gunshot before he passed out.

* * *

Yang dived to the side, cringing as one of Cinder's fireballs glanced off her Aura, taking off a significant chunk of it. It was four against three, but they were totally outmatched. They'd managed to get some hits in, but their opponents managed to get in far more. She gritted her teeth in frustration. At least they were buying time... for someone.

She sidestepped, sliding up beside Blake and putting Mercury between them and Cinder. Yang threw a punch forward, which Mercury blocked with a kick accompanied by a blast to her face. Blake stepped forward, swinging both blades. He ducked under them and delivered a kick to Blake's exposed shin, this time not a shadow clone.

"Come on, I _know_ you can do better than this," Mercury taunted.

"You know, if you want to get us dead, this is a really shitty way of doing it," Yang shot back.

"You know what? You're right," Mercury agreed, stepping back as Cinder advanced toward them. She gestured with her arms, a bow appearing seemingly out of nowhere. The woman smirked as she drew back the string, letting fly with a trio of arrows made of Dust. Fast as lightning, she let another loose.

"Damn it!" One of the arrows had slammed into Yang's shoulder, sending her stumbling. She was still too slow! She dove behind what was once a promotional booth, another arrow flying above her head.

She caught a glint in the corner of her eye. It was followed a second later by a horrendously loud bang and a blindingly bright flash. _Flashbangs_. She covered her ears and closed her eyes. Three more bangs in quick succession she could feel. She couldn't hear the two pops of smoke grenades, but when she opened her eyes, she could see the fog through her impaired vision.

Blake was on the ground beside her, even more dazed than she. Yang grabbed her partner and pulled her up. "Run!"

They dashed toward what they hoped was the exit, still dazed and surrounded by thickening smoke. A trio of arrows flew past them from one direction. A barrage of small objects flew past them the other way. They could barely hear the scream of pain in front of them and the explosions behind them.

"Yang Xiao Long!" a stern voice shouted through the din, hand grabbing her shoulder. She turned and saw the man it belonged to. He was dressed in all black, carrying what looked like a large rifle. He pulled her down behind a pile of debris, then motioned to a spot behind them. "You need to get them outside."

"What?" she asked immediately.

Her partner was more articulate. "What about the civilians?"

"Evacuated. We have gunships waiting for them," the man told them. "Can you get them to follow you through the front door?"

"Uh, maybe?" She paused, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, we can do it."

The soldier- she assumed he was a soldier- nodded. "Do it. We have your back."

* * *

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Pyrrha was in her element. She ducked under Roman's cane, twirling around and striking him in the stomach with Miló. The thief doubled over, but recovered, jumping back and letting his partner take his position. Pyrrha slammed Akoúo̱ into the young woman's face, only for it to connect with empty air.

The tournament champion disengaged, allowing Weiss to send a blast of ice toward the criminals. They dodged to the side, only for Ruby to come streaking on from one side and Ren to rush in from the other.

Ruby missed the first time, but slammed Crescent Rose into the ground and swung around, slamming her feet into Roman's torso. She planted one foot and then the other, levering her weapon out of the ground and swinging it again.

Ren, meanwhile, rushed at Neo. He forced himself to ignore what he _saw_ as much as possible, relying on his other senses. As the smirking petite woman rushed toward him with her sword out, he ducked to the left, pivoting and slashing at where she really was, beside him. He pulled the trigger, sending out a burst of bullets that may or may not have hit their target.

Ruby's next hit would have connected if it weren't for a loud bang that reverberated through the venue. It didn't startle her, but it did distract her enough to miss. Her next swing, though, connected, sending the thief flying. More bangs echoed through the hall.

"Give it up, Torchwick!" Ruby shouted over the background noise. "You can't win!"

He smirked as he stood up, dusting himself off. "No, but I can force a draw."

Ruby swung Crescent Rose, pulling the trigger and accelerating the blade to blinding speed. To her surprise, it went through Torchwick's body, shattering the illusion into a thousand pieces.

* * *

Cinder blinked hard, trying to clear her vision. She hadn't expected the flashbangs at all, and it took her by surprise. Her Aura kept her eardrums from blowing out, and kept the rapidly expanding smoke from burning her eyes, but she could still barely see through the fog. The kids they'd been fighting were gone.

Before she could react, another grenade flew in and exploded. She dove to the side, two more exploding where she was a second before and blasting shrapnel against her body.

"Welcome to Earth!" an irritating voice shouted from somewhere ahead of them in the smoke. "I told you it was a shitty way!"

Seeing a dark shape in the smoke, Emerald opened fire, blasting away with her pistols. She smirked when the shape screamed and collapsed to the ground.

Cinder glared at her. "Ignore them. The blonde and her friends are our targets." Her eyes burned with defiant fire as she stalked forward, ignoring the shapes to their left and right and focusing on the voice ahead.

"Keep up the fire, drive them toward the entrance!" Beckworth ordered from his vantage point. He cursed as something slammed into the pillar he stood behind, sending bits of concrete into his face.

He raised his XM25, peering through the thinning smoke with its thermal sight. He could recognize Cinder as a very bright blob, but couldn't make out her companions. Squeezing the trigger, he sent a high-explosive airburst round toward his target. It exploded next to her but seemed to have little effect. She disappeared around a corner.

"Team Two repositioning," one of his subordinate elements reported. They, too, no longer had a line of fire.

However, another now had an opening. "Team Three engaging."

"Copy. One moving." He left the safety of the concrete pillar, and two other men from his team formed up behind him. Staying low, they moved toward their target, rushing forward and taking cover behind a collapsed stall. They had to be more careful now, as there was little smoke to conceal them from their enemy. Fortunately, neither Cinder nor her companions seemed particularly focused on the Delta operators.

His foot slammed into something hard on the ground. He glanced down at it. It was one of the White Fang rifles, sitting beside a corpse. It wasn't the only one- there were several around them. From his quick glance, it looked like friendly fire, but he didn't have time to speculate. He scanned for more with his thermal optic and found none in the immediate area.

"Sideline, several White Fang dead," he reported before focusing on his primary target once again. "Targets are pursuing friendlies toward the entrance."

* * *

Cinder surveyed the situation as she stepped carefully out of the building. She was surrounded- by targets. Police cars and officers armed with standard assault rifles at most. Not a huntsman or huntress in sight- she was sure that her foes were around _somewhere_ behind the police cordon, but they were probably more interested in running than fighting. Fools. She was only getting started, and these humans of Earth were about to find out the true extent of her powers. They were about to see what she was _really_ capable of. She glanced behind herself and nodded to Emerald and Mercury.

Though she noticed the sound of helicopters, she dismissed it as something unfamiliar and unimportant, turning away from the attack helicopters streaking in from the north. Neither did she understand the significance of the large plastic rifles several police officers were pointing at her.

A blinding light suddenly assaulted her eyeballs, and she instinctively slammed them shut. It barely helped, and she recoiled in response to the light. Doubling over, the light subsided, and her vision started to return.

She felt bullets strike her body, more irritating than painful. The bullets were accompanied by small explosive grenades that she shrugged off. Smirking, she raised one hand, readying her own much more powerful attack. As she did so, she caught something in the corner of her eye, coming in from above her.

She pivoted and raised a hand to block the incoming missile before realizing her mistake. It wasn't one missile, but two dozen, twice the size of anything she'd seen before, and moving too fast for her to dodge.

"No!"

* * *

Emmett Lyons coughed as the smoke and pulverized debris washed over him. He wasn't used to seeing that kind of firepower, and it blew him away in more ways than one. A ragged crater was all that was left of the cobblestone in front of the entrance. The two AH-64 Apache gunships zipped by over the destruction they had just caused, two more fully loaded ones hovering lazily behind him.

"Hit them again, just to be sure," he ordered over the radio, even though he couldn't even see if there were bodies left at all.

The two Apaches behind him obliged, tearing into and enlarging the crater with their 30mm chainguns and APKWS laser-guided rockets. Though the impact of the weapons firing was more impressive than the Hellfire missiles the previous two gunships had used, the actual effect on target was less impressive.

"Are they dead?" Lyons asked.

The response was accompanied by a dark chuckle. "I don't see anything bigger than my hand."

That was the closest thing to confirmation the FBI agent was going to get. "Tactical team, move in."

The four-man team, looking like soldiers but wearing prominent FBI insignia, moved slowly toward the building with their weapons raised. It was beyond tense. If their plan had failed and Cinder was still alive, they were about to find out in the worst possible way.

"I see... a few bits, uh, a leg, maybe, and some weapon fragments," a relieved voice crackled over the radio. "Target is destroyed."

Lyons let out the breath he'd been holding, relaxing more than he should have. After all, they didn't know if Emerald's illusions could defeat thermals or not, and even if that group really was dead, they still had Roman Torchwick, his partner, and an unknown number of terrorists to deal with. "Stay on your guard."

"Sideline, I have an unknown signature approaching on thermals," one of the helicopters reported. He paused, then added, "Looks like two, actually, headed toward the entrance toward you. One big, one small."

"Copy that," Lyons acknowledged. He had a pretty good idea of who was going to come out of what was left of the doors. "Everyone ready."

Sure enough, Roman Torchwick emerged from the entrance, twirling his cane. He stopped twirling it as he awkwardly stopped a foot away from falling into the crater. His partner was right behind him. She stopped beside him, resting her parasol over her shoulder.

Roman looked pointedly first at the mangled remains of Cinder and her minions, then at the police cordon surrounding them, at the attack helicopters, and back at the barely-recognizable bits in the hole.

Slowly, he dropped Melodic Cudgel and raised his hands slowly above his head.

* * *


	16. Shattered Delusions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I've put off watching the latest episode to finish this chapter. Maybe not such a great idea, but it did help with motivation. But I did finish this chapter ahead of schedule.
> 
> This chapter will be followed by a set of four shorter interlude chapters, then the final act of Convergence.

After the major foes were neutralized, the next stage of the operation began.

FBI SWAT teams were the first to enter the building, backed up by teams from the local and state police. Joining up with the Delta contingent, they swept the building for remaining White Fang and found none. What they did find were bodies, some of children, seriously wounded people, and fires barely under control.

Before the all-clear had been given, firefighters and medical teams began to move in under police protection. It was potentially risky, but with so many armed cops around, actually safer than many of the jobs they had been on. Firefighters dragged long hoses inside and began pouring water on the fires. Others searched through wreckage for possible survivors. The medical teams began loading casualties onto stretchers and carrying them out of the building into ambulances and from there toward hospitals. Most of them only knew that there had been a terrorist attack, not what had happened.

Outside, those who had escaped the building were being checked out. Some were uninjured, others could be treated on the spot, and others had to be rushed to hospitals. Police began the tedious task of interviewing them. Some had lost friends and family or left them behind. They were of little use for information and needed support from trained personnel beginning to arrive on the scene.

Emmett Lyons observed the process from his position in the FBI mobile command center. He was technically responsible for the whole operation, but was currently focused on three serious and immediate concerns. The first one was that Cinder had not been obliterated and in fact had escaped somehow. He had helicopters patrolling with thermal optics and men on the ground sweeping, though if they had slipped through a coordinated and targeted attack they'd probably be able to slip through that too.

The second was that there could still be White Fang terrorists in the convention center or with the evacuees. There were sporadic reports that they had killed each other, but he didn't know for sure that they were all dead. They had heavily armed tactical teams, the Army's Delta team, and support from Army gunships and Air National Guard strike fighters should it become necessary. Armed federal agents were screening the crowds, asking people to remove fake faunus features.

The third was the orange-haired thief and his short, mute, and possibly sociopathic partner. For now, they seemed to be cooperating, but he had no way of holding them if they really wanted to leave. He'd called Washington for instructions. The response was short.

"We'll figure something out. For now, make them want to stay."

Easier said than done.

Checking that his pistol was still in its holster- _fat lot of good that would do_ \- Lyons made his way toward the colourful duo. They were handcuffed and guarded by heavily armed officers, but he knew and was sure they knew how little that would do if they _really_ wanted to escape. "Mister Torchwick. Miss Politan."

Roman tipped his head slightly. "How do you do, detective..."

"Supervisory Special Agent Emmett Lyons, Federal Bureau of Investigation," he introduced. "Basically, I'm a senior cop. I work with a task force specifically formed to deal with people from your world. As you are no doubt aware, you are not the first to visit our world. We are well aware of your society, your environment, and your abilities."

"Evidently," came the dry reply.

Lyons sat down across from them on a concrete barrier. "Let's get a few things out of the way. In our system, even criminals have certain rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney- a lawyer. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed."

"Believe it or not, the Kingdoms are civilized places with similar things." He smirked. "Suffice it to say I've heard this before."

"I'm not finished," Lyons said firmly. "Criminals have these protections, but things are a bit different when terrorists are involved. Under the USA PATRIOT act, some of these rights are forfeited or limited in cases involving terrorism. If you attempt to escape custody, you will be terminated with extreme prejudice.

"However, with that being said, we may be able to make a deal depending on the circumstances. You may do a few years at Florence instead of life at Guantanamo Bay. I suppose that doesn't mean much to you, but one option is much more preferable to the other."

"We'll be good." Another smirk, which he wasn't sure what to make of.

"I'm glad we understand each other." The agent stood and headed back to the command post.

* * *

To say Gavin Lloyd just had the most fucked-up day of his life was an understatement. Aaron and his friends had dragged him down to Texas for this event. He admitted it had been fun up until the point it became a terrorist attack. At first, he didn't realize that anything out of the ordinary was happening- nobody did. Then confusion turned to panic and they were bolting for the doors. He hadn't seen Aaron yet, and though normally irreligious was now praying hard that he made it out. Wryly, he realized that this was what it must have felt like for the people who escaped the twin towers.

There were armed cops- they looked more like soldiers- going around asking questions and checking for cat ears. Attack helicopters circled above, and he was pretty sure they'd already been employed. He hadn't seen anything, but had heard a massive explosion.

And now he was pretty sure that the blonde-haired Yang cosplayer talking to a federal agent was his girlfriend from half a continent away. She did say that she might be here, but why was she talking to a federal cop?

All he managed was, "Huh."

"It's a hell of a thing, isn't it? I can barely believe it myself," a brown-haired young man said from beside him. He was uninjured, but looked and sounded rattled. "I'm Sam."

"Gavin." He added quickly, "Not _that_ Gavin."

Sam laughed. "Sorry, man, you had nobody fooled."

"Yeah... just, this is surreal. Scary, even. I came here with a friend and I haven't seen him. And..." he pointed "I'm not sure, but I think that's my girlfriend."

"Did you get separated, too?"

He shook his head. "No, we were going to meet here. But I'm not sure if she even came."

"Lots of Yang cosplayers, maybe yours was in there too," Sam replied. He shook his head. "I know you want to see her alive and walking, but believe me, that's not your girlfriend."

"How can you tell? You've never even seen her." She certainly looked like Linda. Was it wishful thinking?

"That's not your girlfriend, or anyone you know," he answered cryptically. "It's a long story. Maybe you'll hear it on Sixty Minutes."

"I thought I saw her in there... fighting someone," Gavin said quietly. He wasn't sure if that was real or if he'd imagined it.

"Where's she from?" Sam asked suddenly.

He had to think about that for a moment. "Richmond, I think."

"Virginia or BC?"

"The second one. I'm from Vancouver."

"Holy shit..." Sam breathed. "Wait. Linda Anderson?"

He snapped, "What? How do you know?"

"I lied," Sam said quickly. "That's her. Go up there and make your peace now."

"What?"

"Talk to her. You'll understand why. You might never get another chance."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He had an inkling, but it seemed more like a sick joke or a fucked-up stress response than a serious implication. But how did this guy know so much?

"Did you ever notice anything odd about her? Tomorrow, she'll be all over the news. Although technically, she already has been."

"Fuck..." The gears were already beginning to turn in his head. Gavin glanced briefly to the left and to the right before slipping under the police barrier and trying to look like he belonged as he strode toward Yang.

A heavily armed officer quickly stopped him. She stood back a few paces, levelling an assault rifle at his head. "Sir, please get back-"

He began backpedaling. "Shit! Fuck! Sorry!"

"It's okay," a familiar voice called. "Put down the gun."

The officer kept her weapon raised. "Do you know this man, Miss Xiao Long?"

"Miss Xiao Long?" Gavin muttered. What the fuck? Was Aaron right all along?

"Yes, I know him," she snapped at the officer. "Can we talk, please?"

Finally, she lowered her gun. "Alright."

Yang turned to her boyfriend. "Gavin? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," he said. It was cliched and awkward, but he was at a loss for words. He wasn't good with those on a good day, and this certainly wasn't a good day.

"I guess the game is up, then," Yang told him quietly. She sat down on a planter that no longer held a plant, motioning for Gavin to take a seat beside her. "I'm not from Richmond- god, is there a non-cliche way to say this? I _am_ Yang Xiao Long, in the flesh. I'm technically an alien."

"How?"

"How what?"

The questions came out rapidly. "How did you end up on Earth? How did you end up at my school? How did we end up together? How did I not see this earlier?"

"The first one, I don't know," Yang answered honestly. "Maybe Cinder did it, or Torchwick, or Atlas. We showed up about two weeks apart but I don't know if we left-"

"We?" Gavin interrupted. "Do you mean Ruby is-"

"My biological half-sister. Yes."

"Shit. Connor's either going to be elated or devastated," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry." She went back to answering his questions. "As for how we met, the government found out about us, gave us identities, and put us in your school because they didn't know what else to do with us. I still don't have the answer to the third question, and I don't think anybody could see it, or if they did, they didn't believe it."

"Yeah." Silence.

"Hey," Yang said quietly. "It could be worse. I could be a lesbian."

He laughed. "True."

She scratched her head awkwardly. "Well, actually, I still could be. We have different views on sexual orientation."

"Do I want to know?"

She shook her head. "You probably wouldn't understand."

"So we really are different, then," he said, still not sure what to think. "How human are you?"

"Biologically, not too different from you. Stronger and faster, but only a little bit." Yang deliberately understated that, but he didn't know that. "It's the Aura that makes the difference- although according to your scientists, maybe that's not what it is. And before you ask, no, I can't unlock yours. It's not universal like we thought. Terrans just don't have it." Quickly, she added. "But I'm human like you. I have hopes and dreams and feelings and emotions just like you. That makes us the same way more than we're different. No matter what happens, don't forget that."

Gavin nodded, pausing to try to process the information before asking the burning question. "Where does this leave us?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know how real this ever was, I don't know how this changes things. I don't know if we're even compatible species or whatever. I don't know what's going to happen to me, where I'm gonna go. But I promise I'll try to keep in contact. If you're okay with this?"

He was silent for a moment, then stood up. "I don't know. It's pretty sudden and pretty fucked up. See you around, Yang."

* * *

"Who was that, sis?" Ruby asked. She sat on the hood of a police cruiser, legs swinging.

The blonde brawler sighed, sitting down between her sister and her partner. "Gavin."

"What's he doing here?" Blake asked.

"Apparently Aaron dragged him down here," Yang answered. "I guess the crazy fucker was right after all. I hope he made it out."

"So, are you two still..."

She shrugged. "Complicated doesn't even begin to describe how things are."

"I can't believe this happened," Ruby said quietly. Her legs stopped swinging. "The police won't talk about how bad it is. That must mean it's pretty bad. We were supposed to stop these things."

"Life isn't always a fairytale," Blake reminded her. "It could have been a lot worse."

"Hey, we did pretty good for huntresses-in-training who have been off their game for a year," Yang said as cheerfully as possible.

Ruby reminded her, "I think the attack helicopters did most of the work."

"Yeah, probably," she admitted. "But we were amazing bait."

There was an awkward silence, each of the girls lost in their own thoughts. A million questions swirled in their minds, about what had happened and what would happen next. They were tired, a bit traumatized, and very confused. More questions were asked than answers given by the police. In fact, they didn't have any answers either. Some of the authorities working didn't even know that the attackers had been from another world.

"I just don't understand _why_ ," Weiss finally mentioned.

"Why?" Blake echoed.

"Why would they come here in the first place? Why would they attack here? How did they get here? If Cinder was the one in charge, how did she get Torchwick and the Fang to cooperate? How the hell did this happen?"

"Well, we could ask them," Yang jerked her head toward Roman and Neo. "I'll grab a towel and some water-"

"Yang!"

"What? I was just kidding." None of them were quite sure if that was true. She changed the topic. "Hey, has anyone seen Jaune?"

"I think they're still talking to the feds," Blake told her. "This is going to change the world, you know."

"Yeah. But what's gonna happen?" Ruby asked quietly, to herself as much as her team.

None of them had an answer for that.

* * *

Siena awoke to the feeling of being picked up from the cold, wet floor. Perhaps awoke was the wrong word- she was conscious, but only just. She became vaguely aware that she was now moving, and a bright burst of light signalled that she was now outside.

She also heard voices murmuring, which she couldn't quite make out. If she had, she'd realize that the paramedics had no idea who or what she was. In the rush to evacuate the injured, they had not been briefed, and in fact believed that the attack had been the work of Islamic State.

Their job was to preserve life. They loaded the stretcher into the back of an ambulance, climbed in, and took off toward a local hospital. They were focused on the heavy bleeding and collapsed lung caused by several Dust-enhanced bullets to the chest, not on the ears twitching slightly atop their patient's head.

The faunus realized that the ambulance had started moving before blacking out.

* * *

"So, guess who I just talked to?" Sam asked his friends. They stood in a corner of the closed-off area, nervously checking their phones for updates. Or rather, pretending to. They were all too lost in thought to focus on the words on the screens in front of them.

"Ruby?" Cliff asked, not looking up from his phone.

Ben shrugged. "The feds?"

"Uh... Cinder?" Jen suggested.

He shook his head. "I talked to Yang's boyfriend. Well, I think he was Yang's boyfriend."

"Yang had a boyfriend?" Ben asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, what was his name? Gavin. Boy, that's confusing."

"Does that really surprise you?" Cliff interjected. "I mean, she was hot on Remnant. It's not like she's less hot here."

"So, what did he want?" Isaac asked.

"He was confused. I actually didn't know who he was until he told me he was from Vancouver. He said he thought he saw his girlfriend talking to the cops and I told him he was crazy. Turns out, maybe not."

"Their world just got turned upside down," Jen said. "What would it be like learning that you were dating an alien?" She paused. "I guess we're not so different. They'll figure it out."

"Yeah..." Isaac muttered. "Where does this leave us?"

"Us?"

"We've been in this from the start," Cliff pointed out. "I mean, this all completely fucked up, but it's more like, well, this is a bad thing and it happened than holy shit the world just changed."

"People died." Ben reminded him.

"I know. It's still fucked up." He paused. "Like if some ISIS supporters shot up a mall or something. But not out of this world, you know?"

"World's about to change, Cliff," Isaac reminded him.

"Yeah. I just wonder what it's gonna be like for us."

* * *

The media had been covering the event before the attack and coverage quickly grew from a local channel and a few YouTube journalists to national and then an international headline. Such was the speed of information that CNN was showing the event as breaking news while the terrorists were still rampaging and BBC was spreading it around the world almost as soon as it was resolved.

Word of the attack spread like wildfire. It was the era of social media and instant messaging, where news services were the ones who had to play catch up. Information flew in small snippets first before it was aggregated into larger chunks that gave a clearer view of the overall picture.

The first reports to leave the convention centre were confused. Messages flew through the tangled webs of social media, short comments wondering if there was a show starting or if something was going wrong. These quickly gave way to much more tense ones of people realizing this was an attack and telling their friends to get out. Some still didn't realize what was going on, unknowingly risking their lives to take video or submit long posts. In this confusion, threads appeared on Facebook, Twitter, Reddit, Tumblr, and forums and sites across the web.

A few YouTube video bloggers were covering the event, and some managed to capture parts of the attack as they happened. One didn't realize that it wasn't a show and ended up getting shot, his screams of pain streamed live to thousands around the world along with a creepy view from the dropped camera.

The only official coverage was a small local station, running a segment on the event. The reporter was relatively green and also thought the odd gunshots were the beginning of a show. Her cameraman was much more experienced, having covered events in Sarajevo in the 1990s, and immediately realized what was unfolding. Unlike Sarajevo, this time he told the reporter and they beat a hasty retreat, content to cover the event from the safety of the rapidly arriving police cordon.

News vans from larger stations and their affiliates arrived shortly after. The police kept them back, but one intrepid cameraman managed to catch a glimpse of what looked like a military special forces team entering the building. Networks mixed relatively boring footage of police with more impactful shots of survivors leaving the building. They rushed to the Internet to pull down footage and hurriedly brought in experts to provide commentary.

Even as the injured were being rushed to hospital, networks around the world began interrupting their regular programming to spread the breaking news. The dramatic footage of Apache gunships obliterating what appeared to be three people made headlines across the world.

It was read on public computers in Delhi, watched in front of TV sets in Toronto, streamed to phones in Tokyo. Children got out of bed. Workers paused and shut down production. Classrooms went silent, switching from instruction to live coverage. Though they told it in different languages and with different spin, every news network in the world told the same story.

A terrorist attack in a major US city was breaking news. A terrorist attack in a major US city that might have more to it than meets the eye was something more.

* * *

"It's all over the news, Mister President. The internet too. Calling it the worst attack since 9/11 even though we haven't released any numbers yet. They're asking how we responded so fast, why we responded so quickly. They're guessing who did it- ISIS and al-Qaeda are at the top of the list. Wondering why here and why now. There's even some serious speculation that fiction has somehow become reality." The National Security Advisor paused to inhale. "The world is waiting, sir."

He didn't answer.

"Mister President?" she prompted gently.

"I knew I might be deciding the fate of the world when I became President," the man admitted quietly. "Leader of the free world bullshit. Then I realized it was just silly, something for the movies. Then I realized it wasn't, and how goddamn terrifying that can be. Just never imagined this would be how it would happen." He paused, shaking his head. "Sorry, Susan. This is big and I don't know if I know how to deal with it."

"I don't think anyone can, sir," the National Security Advisor told him. "But the moment we found out about our visitors we knew that the world might never be the same. I just wish the great reveal wasn't like this."

"Me too, Susan. Time to face the music." He checked his collar one last time before leaving the Oval Office, walking the short distance to the press room and wishing it was longer.

The President of the United States was the very picture of composed as he stepped out toward the lectern emblazoned with the Presidential seal. He looked down at his notes as much for dramatic effect as out of necessity- before turning to face the camera straight on.

"My fellow Americans. A terrorist attack was carried out on our soil this morning. In fact, this has been the worst attack on US soil since September 11. But this attack was not like September 11, or any attack before that. It was carried out by persons not of this world..."


	17. Fear, Uncertainty, and Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interlude chapters have a slightly different format from normal chapters. Or, in this case, a significantly different structure. This is definitely not perfect, but I'm hoping to increase the pace with these because they're a lot easier to write than story chapters.

**1** **7** **:** **Fear, Uncertainty, and Doubt**

"Hurry up and wait indeed," Sam grumbled under his breath.

Getting to the airport had been an arduous ordeal. They'd been taken aside by the FBI and debriefed, only being allowed to leave once they had assured the authorities they wouldn't talk about anything that had happened before the event. They didn't have a chance to head back to their hotel. Instead, an agent handed them their bags and told them to get on the next flight to Vancouver. The agent also implied that someone would be waiting for them on the other end.

After that came an excruciatingly long journey through a tense city still on partial lockdown. Sam wryly noted that while the government had spent quite a bit of effort interviewing them, they couldn't even provide a car to the airport. At least they had the decency to pay for the taxi, which was a good thing because they probably wouldn't be able to afford the obscene bill.

"Did I mention I fucking hate airports?" Cliff interrupted.

"Yes," Sam replied mockingly. "Repeatedly."

Once they'd arrived at the airport, they'd quickly found out that their flight- and indeed, all flights- had been delayed indefinitely. Security was tight. They'd had to go through several checkpoints just to enter the terminal, and armed guards were visible everywhere. Ironically, the typically irritating part of airport security was less irritating than usual. They weren't looking for bottles of water that probably weren't explosives, but for odd dust and animal ears.

"Do you think we're ever going to get out of here, or are we just going to wait by this gate forever?" Issac remarked. Frustratingly, they could see their plane through a large glass window, parked right next to the terminal.

"Okay, so they want us to fly back to Vancouver ASAP," Cliff mused, carelessly flipping his ticket in the air. "But if it was really that important, why would they just leave us stuck at the airport?"

"I think they just wanted us out of their way," Sam answered.

The atmosphere in the airport was certainly an odd one. Fear, both the comparatively mundane fear of a terror attack and a more unusual fear of the incredible and unknown world now known to be out there, pervaded it. But so did an intense curiosity about what seemed to a whole new world opening up to them. People gathered around television monitors and hovered over their phones, gobbling up any bit of news they could, accurate or otherwise.

"I wonder if they're doing alright," Isaac mentioned. "RWBY and JNPR, I mean. Now they're all over the news. I mean, I thought it would be awesome, but it isn't really, is it?"

"No, especially not under these circumstances-" Cliff began, stopping mid-sentence. He motioned to a nearby television, now showing the Russian President blasting anti-American rhetoric. "Oh, _America_ is the bad guy for keeping this secret. Fucking hypocrite would have done the same damn thing."

"Fucking hypocrite _already did_ the same damn thing," Isaac pointed out. "Remember those Spetsnaz in Donetsk?"

"Oh yeah."

"Think the world is gonna be okay?" Jen asked quietly.

Sam merely shrugged.

* * *

"So, a lot of people- okay, just about everyone- are saying how ridiculous this whole situation is," the talk show host said to his guest. "That fiction becoming reality is itself something for the realm of fiction. That this would not, could not, cannot possibly happen." The host was exaggerating, but only slightly. "Yet the response from the scientific community is remarkably calm."

"Well, it's not that we're particularly calm," the guest answered. "just that scientists have a different way of showing their excitement."

"Excitement?"

"Yes, David, excitement. As a scientist, it is almost as satisfying to learn about something entirely new, or even to be proven completely wrong, as it is to be proven right. This opens up a whole new world of possibilities for science- maybe literally."

"That's a very interesting view to take, Neil, and definitely an admirable one." The host paused for a moment. "A lot of people are talking about many-worlds, of infinite possible realities. Is this science or just science fiction?"

He considered that for a moment. "I would say it's somewhere in between, although it's probably closer to the former today than it was yesterday. These events have turned the theory into something bordering on philosophy to a real scientific hypothesis."

"As a refresher for those who might be confused, what does many-worlds really _mean_ , in layman's terms?"

"In layman's terms? An infinite multiverse filled to infinity with universes, one for every possible possibility. For every possible point of divergence, there's another universe. I chose to drive here this morning, but in another universe, I walked. That's a subtle difference. In one universe, humans live on a relatively calm and peaceful Earth. In another universe, on another world, they fight against creatures of darkness every day to survive. That's a major difference. And, of course, there are an infinite number of possibilities, an infinite number of universes in between."

"Very fascinating," the host replied with a nod. "I know this is a very exciting and maybe scary possibility, but what other theories are worth serious scientific study?"

"Well, the other big one on a lot of peoples' minds is that this really is extraterrestrial life in the conventional sense. It's way out there from what a lot of us thought aliens would be like, but at the same time, very close to some other predictions. Again, no matter which side you sit on, it's exciting. They may look like us, but they might be anything but beneath the skin. Why do they look human? Maybe the ancient astronauts theories are true. And perhaps they only exist as fiction because another group arrived earlier and planted these ideas in the first place. Maybe they were trying to communicate with us. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of questions to be answered. But it's certainly possible."

"This sounds very much like science fiction," the host quipped.

The scientist smiled. "A lot of what's going on does. But when you think about it, a lot of things we now accept as fact, a lot of technology and ideas we take for granted, well, once upon a time those were science fiction, too."

"Well, that's a great remark to close on. Unfortunately, we're out of time for now," the host said with a tinge of regret. "Once again, thank you for coming in on such short notice."

"My pleasure, David."

* * *

"Hey, Rose, have you seen the news?" Gwen chirped to the red-haired police officer as she stalked into the precinct. Rose bit back a retort. Gwen may have been annoying as fuck, but she was actually a fairly competent officer and a decent person, which put her above some of her colleagues.

"It better be good news," she replied as neutral as possible, dropping into her desk. She noticed that she was the only one not gathered around the flatscreen TV by the water cooler. "I just tried to give a federal agent a speeding ticket. He pulled fucking national security on me."

"Well, maybe it really was," Gwen told her. "There was a terrorist attack in Texas. That's what's on the news."

"A terrorist attack?" She bolted upright, pushing her way to the front of the crowd. "How did I not hear about this?"

"I don't know," Gwen protested. "It's all over the news and I sent you like three texts about it!"

"I was preoccupied..." She quickly read the limited information on the screen. Terrorist attack in Austin, supposedly by... extraterrestrials? They were currently showing amateur video of the attack, with a commentator saying something about the groups they thought might be responsible. Rose immediately recognized the symbol on their uniform. "White Fang?"

"Yeah, supposedly," a stocky Sergeant said. "Some furries out of a Texan anime. I still think this was ISIS and these conspiracy theories are ridiculous."

"What do we know about the Fang?" Rose asked, curiosity piqued.

"They kill people pretending to fight for the rights of freaky animal people," another officer answered. "They're from a show called RWBY. But the President's saying this is all real, somehow."

She was sure they weren't fictional. The name RWBY meant nothing to her, but she knew about the Fang. "Huh. Maybe I watched it a long time ago."

"The show's only two years old."

"Can't be..." She remembered that symbol, the claws over the animal head, from before. She didn't remember much about the context, but the symbol stuck in her mind.

"Hey, you okay? You didn't have any family down there or anything, right?" Immediately realizing her mistake, Gwen covered her mouth. "Oooh... right. Sorry."

Rose was still mulling over the symbol in her mind when the video switched to a different clip showing a young woman in red swinging a large scythe at what might have been a man in a white jacket. She stared intensely at the scythe. Qrow would be proud.

Who the hell is Qrow?

"A minor character, maybe?" Gwen asked.

"It's like the main character's uncle or something," the sergeant said.

That didn't seem right to Rose. "Wait, character?"

"Yeah, the President said that fiction became real and a bunch of evil superhumans and animal people blew up some convention. Thought they were fighting their actual enemies."

"Qrow Branwen," Rose muttered, realizing that it could only be one person- even though she only had a vague idea of who that person was. She dashed back to her desk and logged on to her computer, searching for "austin attack red scythe girl."

The search instantly returned a name, along with an article from the RWBY Wiki and a stream of news stories. Ruby Rose. A beautiful name. The name of someone very important to her. The name of the girl in the picture. She switched to image search and scrolled through before finding a decent image. It showed the girl- Ruby- beside a blonde-haired girl maybe two years older. Yang.

She pulled the picture- the one from before, the one of the family she never knew- out of her wallet and held it up to the monitor, beside the picture. The younger girl was barely more than a toddler, but had the same silver eyes as the girl on her screen. The older one had her father's hair, the same bright blonde hair now broadcast across the globe. "Ten years."

Rose didn't waste any time. She stuffed the picture back into her wallet and ran for the door. She'd figure it out on the road.

"Rose, where are you going?" the chief barked from his office.

"Chasing a hunch, personal reasons," she replied, already halfway out the door. "Could be big!"

* * *

 

 


	18. Politics and Personalities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one could have gone better, but I was rather busy in real life.

**1** **8** **:** **P** **olitics and Personalities**

Michael O'Reilly took a deep breath before opening the door and walking into the house. The Gemstone-attached FBI agent had flown in from Washington just hours before. It was all hands on deck in Texas. It wasn't just the worst terrorist attack on US soil since 9/11, but one complicated by seemingly impossible factors.

From what he'd been told, his quarry had arrived at the safehouse not too long ago as well. Out of the way in the Texan countryside, it was the best option out of what they had available. Though the security detail would probably be useless, it was far enough away from civilization that actually getting anywhere would be difficult, especially with air cover either on station or on standby.

"What happened to the other cop?" Roman Torchwick asked from his casual position half-laying on the couch.

"Busy," O'Reilly replied, slightly annoyed at being immediately pegged as police. He sat down across from the thief and his petite associate. "You and your friends caused quite the ruckus."

"Oh, it's what we do," he replied with a disarming smirk.

"You're a smart man, Mister Torchwick," O'Reilly began. They'd given him pages of intelligence to read through, most of which was from the show's notes and may not be accurate. He was hoping it was. "You hedged your bets with Cinder. You believed that by working with her, you'd stand the best chance of survival in her new world. Well, now she's dead and there isn't going to be a new world. At least, not her's. Let's talk about surviving on _our_ new world."

Immediately he realized he'd screwed up. Torchwick leaned back and laughed. "Wow, where are you getting this? You've got it _all_ wrong."

Fortunately, he had a plan to turn it around, pivoting on the thief's hubris. If their assessment of his personality wasn't wrong too. "Oh? So you _did_ work with Cinder because you believed in her?"

"Of course not," Torchwick practically spat. "I'm not so naive as to believe she wouldn't throw me under the proverbial bus. Besides, that bitch was full of it."

He asked casually, "Full of it?"

"Let's just say calling her plan insane would be a massive understatement."

"So why get involved in the first place?"

Torchwick laughed. "Why do you think? Thievery is tricky business. I get information, I don't need a fence, I get paid handsomely."

"You were never going to go through with whatever she was planning." O'Reilly allowed a thin smile. "You played her."

"I played her." Torchwick smirked. "Cinder thought she was playing everyone, and I mean everyone. Me, her minions, the White Fang, the Queen. Okay, the furry freaks, maybe. But I never believed her for a second. I always had a plan, a way out. It was just a matter of choosing the time and place."

You _just got played_. It was far from a complete picture, and what he had learned wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was a start.

He decided to push a little more. "Roman, how much do you know about Cinder's plan?"

The response was a shrug. "Not a lot."

O'Reilly could tell he was hiding what he knew. "Okay, then."

"So, do I get to go to the nicer prison now?" Torchwick asked. "I'm really interested in these prisons of yours. Do they have swimming pools? Bring me some brochures if you can."

"It's a lot more complicated than that, unfortunately," O'Reilly answered, standing to leave. "And not many have pools. But I'll see what I can do."

* * *

The domestic situation was a mess. The National Guard was deployed in Texas, with parts around Austin under de facto martial law. There were occasional riots and protests, but a much greater concern was people refusing to leave home and go to work. Mass media was alight with information and speculation, and many were calling the competence of the country's leadership into question. Fear, uncertainty, and doubt pervaded the nation.

The President couldn't afford to think about that right now. He had to compartmentalize and prioritize. The rest of the world was pointing fingers, most of them at the United States. His country was not the only one demanding answers.

In the White House Situation room was the top leadership of the country. The Joint Chiefs of Staff sat with a few other military officers on one side of the table, with the Secretary of Defence, Secretary of State, Secretary of Homeland Security, Director of National Intelligence and National Security Advisor on the other.

He sat down at the head of the table. "Okay. What's the situation, internationally?"

The President held up his hand. "One at a time, please. General, what's the strategic situation?"

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs replied, "The Russians have gone to high alert. They're mobilizing almost all their regular troops, they might be bringing up reserves, and we believe their strategic arms are also at a heightened state of readiness. Despite their posturing, it's likely that their actions are for internal purposes more than external ones. Both to maintain order and to give the appearance of control."

"What about China?"

"It's a very similar story with the Chinese. Heightened alert and readiness, sometimes internal deployment and possible callup of reserves. In fact, that's the story all over the world, including with our own allies. We're seeing this in Europe, in Japan, South Korea, Southeast Asia, Canada and Australia."

"That's understandable," the President reluctantly agreed. "We just have to make sure there aren't any accidents. John, what's the story politically?"

"The Russians are denouncing us, publicly, as liars and criminals," the Secretary of State replied. "Through official channels, they haven't offered much beyond boilerplate statements. I think there's a good possibility that they did already know and would have taken similar actions if they did not. They're waiting for us to show our hand.

"The Chinese, well, they haven't said much at all. That's not surprising considering their response to other events in the past. They definitely want answers, but if this is a big concern to them, they're not showing it. Most of our allies, Gemstone and non-Gemstone, are fairly quiet, but they're all asking us what the hell is going on.

"The big surprise is France. The message we're getting from them... well, it's very mixed, to be honest. They're not happy at all about being left out of Gemstone. On the other hand, they understand what it's like to have this kind of thing happen, and they're begrudgingly reaching out to lend a hand."

"Okay." The President replied, mulling it over in his mind. "This is more or less what we were expecting. Which means that the leaders we care about are acting at least half rationally. We want to appear firm, but not aggressive. Tell them that the world isn't ending. It'll change, sure, but there's nothing to start a war over. I think they know that."

* * *

Two men wearing rumpled suits strode into the hospital, surrounded by a cordon of armed officers and waving their official IDs at the security as they passed. One was Emmett Lyons, the FBI agent nominally in charge of the terrorist case, and the other was a CIA analyst, Johnathan Ryan.

"What's the story on Torchwick?" Ryan asked as they breezed by the reception area.

"O'Reilly's still working on him," Lyons told the CIA agent. "He doesn't seem to care about revealing his boss. I think he's testing us right now, trying to see how much he can get from us."

"He's going to get an island prison if he's lucky."

"What he _actually_ gets isn't my problem," the FBI agent replied. "What he _thinks_ he's going to get is."

"Isn't it always." He paused. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"We need to know for sure. I don't have any agents I can put on this."

"I could-"

Lyons cut his companion off. "Have you ever conducted an interview or interrogation?"

Ryan shook his head. "No. I'm an analyst... I see your point."

They headed up a flight of stairs and down a hallway into an isolation ward. In this case, it wasn't being used to isolate dangerous pathogens but a potentially dangerous subject. Two heavily armed guards- actual police officers and not hospital staff- stood in the corridor, with two more inside.

A balding man in ruffled scrubs was waiting for them. "I'm Doctor Combes. I assume you've been informed about our patient?"

"We've only heard that we had a Faunus survivor," Ryan told him. "Fill us in on the details, please."

"She was brought in with some of the other wounded," Combes answered. "In quite bad shape, I might add. Bullet wounds in the chest and abdomen, two broken ribs, a punctured lung. We almost started to put blood into her before one of the nurses noticed the ears."

"Would that have been a bad thing?" Lyons asked.

He shrugged. "We have no idea. We were hoping your people would be able to tell us more, but either it's classified or they really don't know. We've been treating her as we would one of our own, except plasma only, no whole blood, and being careful with the drugs. She's doing remarkably well, but for all we know we might have actually been making things harder on her system. They seem to be similar to us biologically, but the devil's in the details as they say."

"Can we talk to her?"

"I should say no, but I'm not sure if it would stop you," the doctor said carefully. "I think she's strong enough, and maybe it's better to do it now before she hurts someone. She's still in shock, though, so be careful for her sake and your own."

"Thank you, Doctor." Lyons withdrew his service pistol and handed it to one of the guards before entering the room.

It was a typical hospital room, ugly and sterile. He'd been in many, both as a patient and as an agent. It was never a pleasant place to be in either position.

The patient sat half-upright in bed, orange ears visible from under her similarly colored hair. Her skin was pale, though neither the FBI nor the CIA agent could tell if that was natural or from her condition. Dull eyes met their gaze.

"Hello. I'm Emmett Lyons, an agent from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my colleague, Johnathan Ryan. What's your name?"

"Siena," she croaked reluctantly.

"Okay, Siena. We just want to ask you some questions," Lyons said. "If you can answer to the best of your ability, it will make things easier on all of us. We may be able to make a deal that gives you a more favorable outcome."

She looked down, pausing for a long time. Finally, she said quietly. "Okay."

"Okay?"

Siena shook her head sadly. "I already betrayed the White Fang a long time ago. What do you want to know?"

* * *

"So you don't agree that this is a policy issue?" the television host asked his guest, a recently announced candidate for the Republican presidential nomination.

"This is a policy issue, yes, absolutely, but it's more than that. You know, I've been talking about jobs and the economy, and that's still important, but this other world, Remnant, this is huge. This could be a massive opportunity or a massive threat. Honestly, I don't think the man in the White House is prepared to deal with any of this."

"Well, what makes you say that?"

"They covered it up. They covered it up. Why? Because they didn't know how to deal with this, that's why. So they just swept it under the rug. We know these people have been here for at least a year, but they just kept it a secret? Was he afraid of what this would do to the world? You know, I don't think so. I think he just didn't know what to do."

"Is it fair to condemn the President for his actions in this case? I mean, this is something that never happened before, that nobody had any idea about," the host argued. "So, let me ask you this. If you were in his position- Obama's position- what would you have done?"

"I never would have kept this a secret. Why? I mean, what's the point? What's the point? If everybody knew right away, we could get a lot of these issues out of the way and move forward. And despite what they look like, these people are not American, they're not Earthican, you know, it's tough to say this but they're not even human. Our goal should have been to learn as much as we can from them. I mean, if we opened this up, we'd have a lot of really smart people looking at it. And then we can put them on a nice island that we can bomb at a moment's notice."

"Don't you think that's a little harsh?"

"No. These people are not human. They have green eyes and they can shoot fireballs. It's not like a comic book. As much as we all like them, we can't have superheroes running around doing whatever they want. We just can't. We have to do what's going to benefit everyone in America."

"I can't say I agree with you, but it's an interesting perspective. Thank you for joining us tonight."

* * *

 


	19. Agree to Disagree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may notice that this series of chapters is not entirely linear. It's a deliberate experiment in anachronic order... okay, no, it isn't, I just screwed up. Also, I know the New York field office is actually a highrise.

As soon as she got into her police cruiser, Rose turned on the FM radio and tuned it to a local news station. She left the police radio on, but mentally tuned it out, focusing instead on the news about the attack. There were a few hard numbers- at least a hundred dead, many more injured. A few names were thrown around- the White Fang, Roman Torchwick, Cinder Fall, and Team RWBY. Remnant. A lot of speculation and a lot of fearmongering.

Confused thoughts swirled around her mind. Was Remnant really another world somewhere out there? She wasn't crazy? All those flashes of things she'd long discounted as spasms of a damaged mind had actually happened? Were those really her daughters? Who the hell decided to make an animation out of it? Had she really once been a Huntress on another world?

She needed to know if there was some authority to go to. A brief mention of Army attack helicopters piqued her interest. She knew the response time for those were slow- she didn't remember how slow, but it was slow- so there was a good possibility the government had some kind of advance warning. Maybe the Feds would know more. And if not, they'd hopefully at least believe her story enough to look into it again.

It was not uncommon for local police officers to visit the FBI office on official business, so nobody paid much attention when she pulled her police cruiser into the parking lot. She parked, shut off the engine, stepped out, and locked the door behind her before heading toward the FBI office.

The lobby seemed busier than usual, though maybe the few times she'd been there before were just slow days. She pushed past a line of civilians and approached a serious-looking man behind desk. She knew from before that he was a sworn agent and not a secretary.

Rose didn't give him a chance to speak. "I have potential information about the attack in Washington."

"May I ask what kind of information you have?" the agent asked, all business. Coming from anyone, it would be something he'd have to take seriously. Coming from a police officer doubly so. "Is this from your department or yourself?"

"It's... kind of complicated." She took a deep breath. "I've identified a person of interest who might be from Remnant."

"Come with me." He stood and lead her through a door into a maze of desks and cubicles. _The federal version of my own precinct_ , she thought to herself. They passed throngs of busy agents and stepped into a glassed-in office near the edge of the room. A pale-skinned man with glasses a size too small sat at his desk, busy poking away on his computer.

"Carl, I have an NYPD Officer who says she has the possible identity on a person from Remnant." the front desk agent told him. He said to Rose, "Special Agent Cooper is the closest thing we have to an expert on this sort of thing."

"Alright, no sense fucking around," Cooper said to Rose, taking off his glasses and placing them on his desk. "Who is our mystery man?"

"Mystery woman, actually." She took a seat across from the FBI agent and spread her arms dramatically. "Me."

He asked flatly, "Explain."

"Ten years ago, I woke up in a hospital with next to no memory of what happened before. I joined the force after completely failing to find out where I came from or who I was." She reached into a pocket on her uniform and retrieved a small flat object. "This was one of the few things I had on me."

Cooper inspected the artifact, a photograph that had clearly shown better days. A woman with silver eyes and red-and-white striped hair sat with a black and red haired toddler in her lap, with a young violet-eyed blond standing in front of them. Behind them was a large blonde man with a broad smile. The agent gingerly turned it over. Usually photographic paper had the brand labelled on the back, as opposed to printer paper which usually didn't-

"Don't bother, it's a copy," Rose interrupted, realizing what he was doing. "I keep the original in a safe, I'm not stupid. But if you're curious, the original has light blue stylized snowflakes on the back. It's probably just a seasonal pattern or something, but it always makes me think of Nazis."

He asked skeptically, "Is this supposed to be you in the photo?"

"I dye my hair, and I've been through some shit since then. Whatever erased my memory did a number on my body, too," she answered quickly. "The girl sitting on me is Ruby Rose, the other one is Yang Xiao Long, the guy is Taiyang and I'm pretty sure he's my husband. I've always known the names, and I know they're my kids even though I don't remember ever meeting them. I also remember Raven and Qrow Branwen- I guess they're siblings- but they're not in the picture."

"Damn. Your story would be incredible if it was true," Cooper said slowly, after a moment of consideration. "I want to believe you, but a photo and a story just isn't enough to go on. With that being said, we have standing orders to take anything seriously. So I'm going to look into your history, and I'm gonna pass this upstairs and see what they can do."

"I guess that's all I can ask," Rose admitted. She stood to leave. "Thank you, Special Agent."

* * *

Remnant was a hot topic, and the airwaves were flooded with views of the new world from every angle. Everyone wanted to cover either the attack or its wider implications, and Discovery Channel was no exception, airing a hastily put together special instead of its normal programming.

"A lot of people are discussing the philosophy, the spirituality of Aura, but what do you think from a scientific point of view?" the show's presenter asked her guest.

The guest in question was a moderately well-known science communicator who had in fact only arrived at the studio an hour before. He'd been offered a large sum of money to come in on such short notice, but part of him would have done it for free. "First of all, it's important to mention the popular definition of Aura. An extension of our soul that protects us from harm. Try to ignore it."

"You disagree with that definition, even though it's been confirmed as the general Remnan understanding?" She feigned surprise, but as a scientifically inclined individual herself, expected the response.

"It's not that the statement is necessarily incorrect, but even discounting veracity for a moment, without knowledge of the cultural context, the definitions, the wording, it's useless. What do they mean by soul? What do they mean by expression? It's a scientifically meaningless statement. In other words, it's not even wrong."

"So, if that's not Aura, what is it?"

"At this point? Speculation." He laughed. "We can infer a fair deal about its effects from publicly available footage. It does indeed appear to act as a forcefield, preventing kinetic impacts and thermal effects from affecting the user. It may or may not protect their weapons and clothing. It is definitely limited, but we don't know what happens when Aura runs out.

"But where it comes from and how it works? Those are far more nebulous questions. It's likely to be some sort of energy field, which to an actual scientist is nearly a meaningless concept without knowledge of what type of energy or what type of field. This is the kind of thing that could take years of dedicated study and might even open up new branches of science to figure out.

"Where it comes from? The fact that it is something they have and we do not implies that this is inherent to Remnan physiology or granted by some natural or artificial process on their world that we do not know about. Perhaps it is indeed produced intrinsically via some totally unknown mechanism. There are many ideas out there. Some can be formulated as legitimate scientific hypotheses. If that all sounds very vague, well, it is. None are currently provable and few are currently disprovable."

"You mentioned publicly available knowledge," the host mentioned. "Is it reasonable to assume that top secret government labs have already been asking these questions and might even have answers?"

"I would be very surprised if they hadn't been investigating this, and I'd be nearly as surprised if they managed to come up with any meaningful answers."

"So, what about Dust? Do we have any idea what this could be?"

"We have confirmation of the basic types: Fire, Freeze, Wind, and Lightning. We know it can be composited. We know the effects are very similar to what one would expect from the names. It appears that the reactions of Fire and Lightning are quite energetic, Wind probably so, and Freeze somehow endothermic."

"But what _is_ it?" Again, she knew her guest probably didn't have an answer, but she also knew this was the question her viewers were no doubt screaming at their screens.

"We have yet to see the substance itself; only its effects. There's simply not enough there to speculate on. We can guess that it's a crystal, and that it's made of something we haven't seen before, but even those very basic postulates are guesses. I don't even feel safe speculating whether it is a source of energy or a moderator of energy transfer. Again, this is new, undiscovered territory for us."

"Let's consider something else for a moment," the host said. "What if this isn't anything scientific at all? What if it truly is magic?"

"There's no such thing as magic," he refuted in response. "There is what we understand and what we do not yet understand. We apply labels to these, but really the only thing separating supposed magic from science is that one is established and one is unknown. Throughout history, magic has always become science at some point."

"So, hypothetically, if wizards existed and were casting spells-"

"If we can describe it scientifically, it becomes science. Even the most fantastical magic is bound by its own laws. Describing those laws is _by definition_ science. As odd as this may sound, if we insist on applying the label of magic here, we could literally have the science of magic."

"Finally, if you could meet a Remnan scientist, what would be the most burning question that you would ask them?"

"I'd ask them if they're as underfunded as we are," he quipped with a laugh. "But honestly, there's so much to ask, and it would be a struggle to get a word in edgewise over _their_ questions."

* * *

On another channel, this one a general news channel, the journalistic staff also scrambled to bring in Remnant-related content. They were in a fortuitous position. They had a professor from Harvard University who was supposed to be talking about the philanthropy of Pope Francis. It was not too difficult to persuade him to talk about Remnant instead, though they did have to sweeten the deal a bit.

"Good morning, America. I'm here with Professor Alexander, a leading lecturer on philosophy and theology at Harvard University," the anchorman introduced. "Both the Pope and the Dalai Lama have released statements today. Now, what's happened is definitely affecting how we see things spiritually. Could you give us some context on that, professor?"

"I think a lot of people are reevaluating their beliefs, yes, but I don't think we're going to suddenly become a nation of atheists," the professor replied. "It's definitely a time for reflection, for reconsideration, but hardly one to abandon belief in a higher power. People are trying to fit this new knowledge into their worldview rather than the opposite."

"Could you elaborate on that?"

"Certainly. Some Christians argue that the Bible is the story of Man and God on Earth and does not apply to the Remnans, while others argue the virtual opposite. Some denominations already have no problem with other intelligent life, as well as Islam and most Eastern religions. Others see these people as an extension of humanity, bound in the same way. There are many perspectives to take that do not run counter to what we believe or what we see in front of us."

The anchorman forced a topic change, worried about time. "What about Aura? It's said to be a reflection of one's soul. How does this change and not change things?"

"On the surface, it would seem to confirm the existence of a soul and our lack of a soul. But I don't believe I'm a soulless husk, and neither to many others. And of the ones that do, I doubt most would believe Remnans would have one if we do not. We cannot conclude its true nature from unsupported statements."

"So you think that we, who have just encountered Aura, have a better understanding than Remnan scientists, who have studied it for a very long time?"

"Not necessarily. My experience with hard science is limited to the periphery of it, but I would be very surprised if any scientist took what we know at face value. We don't have a proper scientific consensus from Remnant, but only unsupported statements and non-expert opinion. In fact, this isn't a matter of science but of communication."

"But, if we do take a spiritual view of Aura for a moment, why, then, might they have it and might we not?"

"Well, some Christian groups are saying that this is something given by God to fight the darkness as some sort of test or challenge. I'm not sure if anyone has taken this position- it's more like something from neo-Pagan or Eastern philosophy- but it could be explained as some kind of symbiotic interaction with their world, balancing out the evil of the Grimm. It's poetic if nothing else."

* * *

Sam like to think of himself as a pretty average young adult, but he had to admit that some of the dreams he had were fucking _weird_. Unfortunately, he forgot most of them upon waking up, only remembering how strange the experience had been. This case was no exception.

An excited voice rousted him from his slumber, any memory of his odd dream going with it. "Sam, Sam, wake up!"

"Whaaat?" Sam drawled groggily. Immediately, he realized that waiting room seats were not great things to sleep in, because he was sore in places he hadn't realized it was possible to be sore in.

"They're starting to fly out of here again!" Cliff said excitedly, clearly not suffering from the same issues he was.

He managed to form a cohesive sentence. "Is our flight flying out?"

The response was awkward. "Well, no."

Sam fumbled with his phone, checking the time and finding it not to his satisfaction. "I'm going back to sleep."

* * *

**The Official Student and Staff Announcement, Communication, Page of the Mos**

**Vicki Lee**

I think we might have went to school with Team RWBY. I'm probably going to say too much and things I shouldn't say, and maybe I'm insane, but here goes.

Anna Weiss is Weiss Schnee. I mean, now that I've seen pictures, it's pretty obvious. I mean that's literally Anna with a ponytail. I never saw the scar but I think you can cover that up with makeup. She's also amazing with a sword (long story) and She talked like she was rich and important but not anymore.

Bella Blake is Blake Belladonna (such a great name lol). She was pretty quiet. And always wore a hat.

I never really knew Ruby Jones so I can't really say if she's Ruby Rose or not. Anna said she was her best friend, though. I guess... maybe?

Linda Anderson always went by Yang which I thought was pretty weird until she told me she was from Richmond. I always figured she just had Chinese friends or something. The only weird thing is that her eyes are a different colour.

Am I crazy?

**Harrold Yeung**

Does it bother anyone else that we went to school with aliens that could have pounded us into paste?

**Janit Tan**

yes!

 **Wahpreet** **Willow Amrit**

But they weren't aliens to us. They were just normal teenagers like us, and maybe they were a bit weird but so are a lot of other groups on the fringes of our society. I think that despite all that's different there's a lot of common ground. And those of us that knew them knew them as Ruby and Bella and Linda and Anna and not some weird superpowered aliens from the planet Remnant.

**Sam Tilley**

So that's why Bella always wore that stupid hat!

**Aaron Wong**

Hah! I knew it! I always figured there was something weird about those girls. Also, yeah, Gavin Lloyd met Linda down here and it turns out she's actually Yang.

**Jeff Llelewn**

Wait, what?

**Aaron Wong**

Exactly what it sounds like, dude.

**Frank Fletcher**

The hair color is wrong.

**Daemon** **Bro** **o** **ker**

Hair dye is a thing you idiot. Also, it's spelt colour.

**Aaron Wong**

Coloured contacts and hair dye.

**Darrel Fletcher**

One time I was in the gym and I thought I saw a blonde girl lifting like two hundred pounds. I guess these people are fucking strong.

**Aaron Wong**

Haha yeah I remember that. It was Yang. Blake was pretty good too I think.

**Jon Edward Tang**

maybe its not the best time to mention it but the title is still cut off


	20. Life Goes On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last interlude chapter. There are a few more things I would have liked to cover (AI, where the Remnans are at, RWBY AMA, a better discussion of technology, and the future of RWBY the show to name a few) that may or may not show up as Asides.

**2** **0: Life Goes On**

Although the US Presidential election was the focus of much of the world, the Canadian general election was only a few months away and the events south of the border had brought many new issues to light that candidates were now scrambling to deal with.

"There's a big issue that a lot of people have on their mind, one that we haven't covered before," the newscaster began. Across from him sat the hope of a political party which had fallen from majority government to official opposition to holding only a few dozen seats. "It's fairly obvious now that our government was involved with the people from the other world, and a lot of people disagree with their actions. What's your take on that?"

The Liberal candidate considered his response carefully. "I think our Prime Minister, and indeed everyone involved, made their decisions carefully based on the information known to them at the time. Perhaps we can look at some of those decisions, and say they weren't the best for Canadians or anyone, but that's judging through 20/20 hindsight. It's difficult to say, certainly difficult to say."

"So are you saying you would or wouldn't have done things differently?"

The candidate did not directly answer the question. "Those decisions were made behind closed doors. It's not unfair to question those decisions- I question some of those decisions- but we don't know what they knew at the time. There may have been very good reasons, or at least appeared to be very good reasons, that we have no knowledge of."

"Let's take one thing in particular that's been bothering a lot of Canadians. There's a rumour- perhaps more than a rumour- that Team RWBY actually went to school with our kids for the better part of a year. How do you feel about that?"

"One one hand, it's easy to say that it's a bad thing, a mistake. I understand that a lot of people aren't happy with superhuman teenagers being this close to their own children. On the other hand, they're teenagers too, and high school offers many opportunities to absorb our own culture and grow as people." He paused. "Again, I don't know what the factors in that decision were. I hope that this was a considered process, that the current government weighed the risks and costs against the benefits and determined this was the best course of action."

"What do you think we need to do going forward, then?"

"Certainly openness is a good thing, understanding is a good thing, but we don't know the whole picture yet, and it's too early to really take any positions on that," he answered. "A lot of people are calling for quite radical responses to events that are happening and events that may happen. I understand why people feel this way, but we have to force ourselves to step back and think carefully about what we should really do. I think no matter what happens taking hasty, radical, poorly considered actions will be disastrous."

* * *

"So, what's the verdict?"

"You're probably not going to like my answer very much," Special Agent Cooper told the NYPD officer on the other side of his desk. "They can test if you really are from Remnant- probably. They really didn't want to tell me much, and I get the impression the guy I talk to was hearing it secondhand with a few things redacted too."

"What do I need to do?" Rosalind Drake- possibly Summer Rose, she reminded herself- asked..

"They said we need to get a vial of blood and ship it off to a lab God knows where. And, uh, they implied that I shouldn't let you leave without doing it, but I'm not going to try stopping you if you do."

"No, I'll do it. I want to do it." She said it for herself as much as the federal agent. "How long will it take?"

"That's the hard part. They didn't give me an answer. Maybe days, maybe weeks, hopefully not months. I don't know if they know."

"Am I a guinea pig for the first time they're doing this, or is it just the usual government slowness?" Realizing that she was talking to a federal agent, she quickly added, "Sorry."

He laughed. "No, that is the government. You'd be surprised at the kind of shit we have to deal with internally. But as for your question, I don't know. I'd say this is their first time, maybe their first time doing it for real."

"Is this an identity test or a humanity one?"

"The way he said it implied the latter. But I can't tell you for sure."

She nodded. It wasn't the answer she wanted to hear, but at that point she wasn't sure what she did want to hear anymore. "So, what happens if I really am one of them?"

"I don't know," Cooper admitted. "There will be people who will want to talk to you. You're a citizen of this country, legally, so they we legally detain you without cause- unless they change the laws. Your department may fire you or push you to retire. On the bright side, though, if things go well, you might actually come out of this with a cushy government job."

"I'm not sure if I should be terrified or relieved," Rose replied wryly.

He asked, "How sure are you that you're Summer Rose and not somebody else from Remnant, if you are from Remnant?"

She thought about it for a moment. "I think I am. It just feels right. No, I'm pretty sure it's all or nothing. Either I was Summer Rose or I'm just some crazy human with delusions of grandeur."

"Was?"

"Was? Am? If I was once someone but I barely remember anything about them, am I still that person?" She shook her head. "I guess that question was going to come up sooner or later."

"Well, I guess there's not much I can do for you there." He stood, extending his hand. Rose took it, and he noticed that her grip was firm but not painful and her skin was surprisingly smooth. "You can head down to the lab and they'll take a blood sample. You're free to leave after that. We need you to keep this conversation discreet, but you probably don't want to talk about it anyway. Come back if you need anything. Otherwise, we'll find you."

* * *

Inevitably, among all the talk of philosophy and science, a more grounded question came up. How would Earth fare if war broke out with the Kingdoms? It was viewed as a remote possibility by officials, but circulated widely on the Internet. In the hopes of alleviating fears or at least getting a decent amount of viewers, a cable news channel brought in a defence expert to give an expert opinion on the matter.

The host opened with a pointed question. "Do you think the attack was an act of God, an act of terrorism, or an act of war?"

"I'm not privy to our government's intelligence, so this is speculation, but definitely a state actor was involved at some point," the expert replied. "However, this was at best a scouting mission, and more likely an action by a rogue agent. Perhaps Miss Fall infiltrated or forced her way into a state apparatus and attempted to redirect their efforts to her own ends."

"So you'd say this is an act of state-sponsored terrorism?"

"I'd say that it's a definite possibility," he clarified.

"You say you don't know anything we do, so how are you drawing your conclusions?" the host said. He quickly added, "I mean, I'm not doubting you, but-"

The expert interrupted, "We know very little about the Kingdoms and how they work. But we must assume they are at least rational states, and a rational state does not send terrorists as their first contact with a foreign power. They would send diplomats or an army depending on their intent. We must therefore assume that something went wrong. This could even be deliberate sabotage by another Remnan state."

"But why do you say this isn't just a random occurrence or the will of some deity? Why do you think-"

He interrupted again. s"Let me make something clear. There is no such thing as a coincidence or an act of God. Not in our world- the world of intelligence and defence. Everything was done by someone for a reason. That doesn't mean it isn't- I will admit the possibility- but in the world of defence this is akin to sticking your head into the sand. In other words, we must assume a deliberate action because it is what we are attempting to defend against."

"If this is the vanguard of an invasion, if there is a war, how would we fare?"

"I think an invasion by Remnan forces is something we could counter. They have advanced technology and what some are calling soul magic, but we have numbers, strategic depths, and strategic weapons they do not have. I would not want this war- it would be very destructive to all involved- but it is winnable."

"Speaking of technology, what do we know about theirs? How does it compare to our own world?"

It wasn't exactly his area of study, and the expert paused for a moment before answering. "They're ahead of us and they're not. Generally, from casual observation, perhaps ten, twenty, maybe thirty years ahead. Their robotics are advanced, AI is advanced, small arms are highly developed, and of course they can build massive airships which is a hugely impressive technological feat. On the other hand, no spaceflight, they haven't split the atoms, and they're way behind in aerodynamics and precision weapons. Their communications and information systems are limited but that might not be a limit of the technology itself. However, this is based on a few limited statements and I'll admit some speculation based on the RWBY web series."

The host wanted to ask more about the subject but knew his time was limited, so he pressed on instead. "What about the Grimm? If they come here, how would we deal with them?"

"It depends. We could deal with limited incursions-localized and limited presence- I don't doubt that. But if Earth was like Remnant and they spawned everywhere, all the time, it would be a horrifying apocalypse scenario. If giant portals opened up everywhere, it would be a horrifying apocalypse scenario. We are not equipped to defend against a sustained hostile presence on our own territory." The expert paused, then continued quickly, "Fortunately, we have not seen that. We've only seen isolated incursions, which would seem to indicate that there is no intrinsic, permanent bridge between worlds, but a local, transient one created by concentrated effort."

He moved on to his final question. "Do you think any of this is likely? An invasion by one of the Kingdoms, or the Grimm arriving on our doorstep?"

"I don't think so, but a few days ago, I would have said that none of what's happened was even possible." The expert laughed halfheartedly. "So we're just going to have to wait and find out."

* * *

"What's the shape of the world today?" the President asked his staff. He leaned back slightly, appearing casual enough but very tense inside. "State Department?"

The Secretary of State answered, "The Russians are still making noise, but Vlad's made it very clear that he wants to talk. Europe's still tense, but with everything going on in the world that affects them I think this kind of alert was inevitable anyway. East Asia at least isn't seeming to be a problem so far, although the North Koreans are posturing again."

The President nodded in response before turning to the National Security Advisor. "What do we know about Cinder- how and why she came here?"

"Unfortunately, we're still trying to piece that together. We were hoping to gain more intelligence from the thief and his partner, but extracting it is proving difficult. They're demanding more and more. Fortunately, one of the White Fang members survived and has been quite forthcoming," she replied. "We know that both the White Fang and Cinder's faction were under the employ of some master. We believe this is a powerful organization, possibly the SDC or the Atlesian government though I must stress that we do not know and pointing fingers."

"Why would they employ them?" SecState interrupted.

"They wouldn't- not directly. We're talking something covert with many intermediaries- they may not have even known who was working at that level. It's most likely that they funded the cross-dimensional research but may not have even intended to create a portal. The actions we saw were people within that organization, not the organization itself." She paused. "We also have a possible theory on why Cinder was so intent on destroying Team RWBY, but it's largely speculation at this point."

"What's the theory?" SecDef asked.

"Ruby Rose, or rather some of her traits," she explained. "It's possible Cinder believed she was a powerful adversary or could be in the future. Either that she inherited the maiden power from her mother when she died- if she died- or that she has some power inherent to her silver eyes. However, this is based on notes from the RWBY show hinted at by statements made by real Remnans. Confirmation bias is a very real danger and this I wouldn't put too much stock in these theories."

"If she died?"

"Yesterday, a New York police officer walked into the FBI office claiming that she had woken up in hospital ten years ago. She had with her a picture of her family, allegedly from before she woke up. There's a good possibility she's a fraud, but on that note I think it's prudent that we put some plans in place to search out possible Remnans in our society and have a process to screen those that come forward."

"Jesus, they could be among us?" SecState asked.

"Maybe. But I wouldn't blow this out of proportion before we know more. Even if they are among us, I'm willing to bet they're not willing to stir things up too much. They may not know where they're from, and more may come forward in the coming days. Of course, she may be a fraud, or the only one, and I think we'll see a lot more hoaxes than real aliens."

"Noted," the President commented.

"Speaking of RWBY, where are they now?" a Cabinet member asked.

"Back in Canada. We decided mutually that with anti-Remnant sentiment as it is in our country, they would be better in Vancouver," the President answered. "I think you missed that meeting."

"Ah, okay."

"What about the situation at home?" the President asked next.

"We're starting to see some protests and demonstrations," the Secretary of Homeland Security noted. "Mostly anti-Remnan, but we'll see opposing ones soon enough. That's a good sign."

"How the hell is that a good thing?" SecTreas asked.

"It means that people are willing to leave their homes again. It means the initial fear, the initial panic that the world is coming to an end is over," the Secretary of Homeland Security explained. "It's still not rational, but the fear and concern is now for how this affects us and how it will affect us in the future. And it means they're confident enough to go out and state their opinion instead of hiding. Think of it like a heated argument versus random flailing."

"That's certainly a colourful way of putting it," the President remarked. He stood. "Alright. We've still got a lot of work to do, but at least the crisis is over. Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow will be busy."

* * *

The airport was getting noticeably less crowded. It was still busy, but not as much so. Security restrictions were relaxed and flights were beginning to come in and out again. Some people had given up, arranging alternate transportation or finding somewhere nearby to stay and wait it out.

"Looks like our flight's been un-cancelled," Sam told his friends after checking his phone. "We'll be able to get of here soon."

"Finally," Cliff replied. He sat with his laptop in his lap and earbuds in his ears, half-listening. "I was gonna go nuts out here."

"So... do we keep our mouths shut or talk our heads off about what happened?" Isaac asked quietly.

"I think the guys in black suits would be pretty pissed off if we did," Ben opined.

"Yeah, but what can they actually do about it?" Isaac asked. "We were never actually sworn to secrecy."

"True."

"We'll have a hell of a story if anyone will believe it," Isaac added.

Sam shook his head. "Considering all the laws we broke, we probably shouldn't tell anyone."

"Yeah, but we were pardoned for those."

"That's not what a pardon is, and they can still press charges," Jen explained. "I don't think they will, but do you really want potential employers knowing you once smuggled a fugitive across the Pacific?"

"I guess not.," Isaac admitted. "I'm not going to take it to the grave, though."

"Don't expect you to. Maybe we'll write a memoir in twenty years. But we should wait for the heat to die down first."

"Would anyone even believe us, though?" Isaac asked again.

"You know, all I can think about is that we're going to be getting on a plane home soon," Cliff interrupted, taking out one of his earbuds. "The world is changing overnight and that's the thing the front of my mind. Isn't that fucked up?"

"Kind of," Sam replied.

"I've been thinking about it, though, and you know, maybe not. Life goes on." He swung the earbud around as he rambled. "We've already accepted this new reality, and soon enough, so will everyone else. At the end of the day, people still gotta eat. For all the talk of world-shattering changes, the world is pretty much the same today as it was last week."

* * *

 


	21. Far Too Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, the title of this chapter is definitely not referring to the time it took to finish it.
> 
> So, Act 3 is finally out. The format will be similar to, but looser than, previous acts. It will probably be shorter overall, and I know that will disappoint a lot of people. It may seem disjointed at time. But I know where I want to take it and I think I have a pretty good plan this time. We've been building up a long time and now we're getting to the point where things start to come together.

**21** **:** **Far Too Long**

"Okay," the police officer spoke into her desk phone. "Thank you." She tossed the phone back into its cradle before leaning back and exhaling. "Fucking finally."

"So," Gwen asked, leaning over the side of the officer's cubicle. "Are you really Summer Rose?"

"Well, they didn't say I'm not," Rosalind Drake replied. "They said it's a good enough possibility that they want me to meet with my daughters. _If_ they are my daughters."

"That's great! What's the plan?"

"I'll be flying out- I'm not supposed to tell anyone where. The tickets will show up in my mail, they'll contact me on my cell phone, and someone will meet with me at the destination. And that's all they told me." She shrugged. "I've waited three weeks already. This is as good as it's going to get."

Gwen twiddled her thumbs. "When are you flying out?"

"Within the next few days. I have a few things I have to take care of first." Some of which Gwen knew about and some of which she didn't.

Quietly, Gwen asked, "What's going to happen if it turns out you really are her?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Rose answered hesitantly. "I only remember bits and pieces of Summer, if I ever was her. I don't know if I can be her even if I technically am. Until this month, I was an American, I was a New York cop, and I was entirely human. Okay, there was some speculation that I might be Canadian. But I wasn't an alien and I wasn't a huntress. I'd dismissed that as fiction long ago and built a new life from scratch. I don't know if enough of the old one is still there to go back to- am I rambling?"

"A little," Gwen replied with a hint of a smile. "Well, good luck, whatever happens."

"Thanks." Rose waited for the other cop to leave before logging back into her computer and bringing up a file she'd been staring at on and off for the better part of the past month.

Alexandra Drake. Light brown hair and grey eyes. Seven years old just last month. That her daughter carried her name and not that of her father or her adopted parents surprised her. A student at Bronx Elementary School.

It was something she was hesitant about, that she'd be putting off for weeks, but it was now or never.

* * *

"World's right fucked, isn't it?" Gavin asked, tossing a beer to his friend. He wasn't supposed to have it, but like most boys his age, he had his sources. "I guess I still owe you, though. You were right all along."

Aaron caught the can mid-air. "Yeah, and now the apologies are starting to get annoying."

Gavin popped his own can and took a swig of the bitter liquid. "Sorry."

"Honestly, I don't know if I actually like being right," Aaron admitted. "I mean, this is just fucked up. And what if it doesn't stop here? What if more fiction starts coming into reality? Some kind of multiversal invasion."

"Grimm?"

"The Grimm would be bad, but not _that_ bad. What if it's Tyranids, or the Covenant, or teleporting Russians?"

Gavin laughed. "Teleporting Russians? What?"

Aaron changed the topic. "You still haven't talked to Yang, have you?"

"No," Gavin shook his head. "I saw her once, when I was picking up Connor, but we didn't talk."

"You scored with fucking _Yang Xiao Long_. I mean, human girl is one thing, Remnant girl is another, but fucking _named character_. Why are you not doing everything to keep that?"

"I just don't know if I can date a celebrity," he replied, more lame sounding than he felt.

"She's not a celebrity, not like those plastic girls on TV," his friend reminded him.

"Yeah, she's actually a superhuman alien with fire bending powers," Gavin replied half-sarcastically. "That definitely doesn't make it harder and more complicated at all."

"Still human. All of them," Aaron reminded him. "You know that probably better than I do."

"Yeah, I know. " He took another swig of beer. "Like I said, fucked up world."

"School's starting in a few weeks," Aaron mentioned. "Still going to trade school?"

"Yep. I know it's not that exciting, but electricians are in demand, and there are worse things to do. Like being an art major."

"Arts major," Aaron corrected.

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"Figured out what you want to do yet?" Gavin asked.

Aaron shook his head. "No. I don't know. With all this stuff going on, I just really want to be a part of it. But I don't even know where to begin."

"You already were, remember?"

"I don't count 'being scared literally shitless running from gunfire' as being part of it," Aaron said sourly.

"Yet we were there."

"Yeah, I know, and now we're back here trying to figure out what to do with our lives," Aaron remarked. "It's like standing next to the World Trade Center as it falls, then going back to work the next day."

Gavin tossed his now-empty can toward his garbage can and missed. "You know, you can be pretty damn poignant when you're drunk."

* * *

Parked a block away from the elementary school, Rose hesitated. She sat inside her cruiser, procrastinating and trying to find any reason not to go through with it. She was scared, terrified even. It was absurd. She'd fought all kinds of monsters and bad guys and _this_ was what she was afraid of?

"Get your shit together, Rose."

Taking a deep breath, Rose opened the door and stepped out of the car, striding around the corner toward the elementary school. The day had just ended, and the children were rushing out toward waiting parents and buses.

She's memorized the face and recognized her child immediately as she excitedly rushed out of the school and into the arms of a dark-haired woman- her foster mother. A pang of... something shot through Rose's heart as the woman asked the girl how her day was. Jealousy?

The girl's foster mother noticed her watching. She turned and asked, concerned. "Is there a problem, officer?"

By all logic, she should speak up. Her daughter deserved to know, maybe needed to know if it turned out hybrids had issues they'd never thought of before. The government needed to know to protect her daughter and to protect everyone else. Her other daughters deserved to meet their sister.

It was her _daughter_ , goddamn it.

But what would life be like for a hybrid on Earth? A freak, an outsider. Maybe she would develop the same powers her mother and sister did. Maybe they'd be dangerous. But if she never did, all she would gain nothing but stigmatization. Who would be watching her life?

And what if she was wrong? About being Remnan, about this being her child, about anything, really?

It would have been so much easier if it was someone else's kid. She couldn't be objective, and trying only confused her more.

Would she be saving a life or ruining it?

She'd bring it up some time. She would. But this wasn't the time or the place. She's ask someone for help with it.

It was, after all, easiest to do nothing at all.

"No problem at all, just passing through." Rose smiled politely, even though it was about the last thing she wanted to do.

"Ah. Have a good day, then."

"You too, ma'am." She turned and walked away.

* * *

"Good morning, Mister Torchwick," an FBI agent greeted flatly as he entered the house. He hadn't been looking forward to this assignment. It couldn't be as bad as they had said- his predecessor told him that Torchwick should have been shot not because he was dangerous but because he was annoying- but it still didn't sound remotely pleasant.

The orange-haired man turned. "Huh, I've never seen your face before. I guess the last guy really couldn't stand me. Can't account for taste, I suppose."

"Your packages arrived," the agent said, dropping a large cardboard box on the kitchen table.

"Ah, excellent!" the thief clapped his hands together. "You're going to regretfully inform me that not all of my requests were approved, but congratulate me on my good behaviour anyway, with a subtle reminder not to try anything."

The agent was at a loss for words. "Uh..."

"And you're going to tell me that I'm not a criminal or a free man, that my status is still 'undetermined'. You'll list the charges if I ask but you won't give me a court date. You're going to tell me you're working on that but you don't have no idea when anything is going to happen."

The FBI agent sighed. He'd heard the thief was irritating, but he didn't realize he was this irritating. "I wish I could say no, but yes, that's just about the size of it."

"Wait, I'm not done." Torchwick held up a finger. "Finally, you're going to mention again that you have the ability to blow us all to bits of we try anything."

"Are we done, Mister Torchwick?" he snapped.

"I think so. I'm going to enjoy my magazines and cigars, and my associate here is going to gorge on ice cream. Again. Now scram."

* * *

Usually, Rose loved flying.

There was something about soaring above the clouds at hundreds of miles an hour that made her giddy on the inside. It was something so unnatural, yet natural at the same time. A breathtaking experience. She wasn't the type to bother with onboard entertainment- no, she'd spend the whole flight with her face glued to the window like an overexcited kid.

She occasionally wondered if it had something to do with her past life. Perhaps she'd been a pilot or an aerospace engineer. Now she knew- or thought she knew- that wasn't the case. Did they have airplanes on Remnant? They had airships, she knew that. She had probably loved those, too, back when she knew what they were.

This flight was one she wouldn't enjoy. There was too much conflict, too many questions on her mind.

What if they were wrong? What if they were dragging her all the way out to meet some girls who weren't her kids, to prove she wasn't a dead huntress, making a huge fuss for something that never was. Who would she be disappointing the most? The government, for depriving them of their Terran Remnan, the girls she thought were her kids, for not being their mother, or herself, for keeping her life's mystery unsolved?

But what if they were right? The life of Rosalind Drake, New York police officer, would become a distant memory. Or would it? She couldn't just continue where she left off. She may have been Summer Rose, but had next to no memory of actually being her. What would her kids think of her? What were they like? How had they grown up? What would-

"A drink, ma'am?" the stewardess, a middle-aged woman, asked.

"Yes, please. Give me the strongest stuff you've got."

* * *

"Do you think we can pay someone to buy our groceries?" Yang breathed, stepping inside the house with an oversized grocery bag. "There were like sixty people at Superstore trying to get my autograph."

"You know the guys across the street will do it if you ask," Blake reminded her from her position on the couch.

"Yeah, but it's awkward asking soldiers and spies to do grocery shopping," she replied.

"Yang, you're back!" Ruby shouted excitedly from the living room. "Did you know we're getting a special guest? I mean they didn't tell us who it was but it's still exciting?"

Yang dropped the groceries on the counter. "Wait, what?"

"You missed it," Weiss said from beside Blake. "We got a message while you were out telling us that someone was coming to visit us."

"Well, who is it?"

"They didn't tell us," Weiss repeated. "They said we might recognize them, and that it was important to everyone that we meet. But that's it."

Yang dropped her body into the couch. She reached for the remote, intent on changing Global News to something more fun, but it wasn't on the coffee table. "So... guesses?"

"Oh! Maybe it's Cliff and his friends!" Ruby guessed.

"That would be fun, but why would it be important?" Weiss shook her head.

"Rooster Teeth!"

"What would be important enough for them to fly up here?"

Ruby pouted at her partner. "You're no fun."

"Maybe it's someone from the government and they need to talk about us," Yang suggested seriously. "I don't see why they wouldn't tell us if it isn't."

"Perhaps their intentions are less than noble," Weiss replied. "But I doubt it."

Yang cracked a grin. "Maybe they're going to give us medals, then?"

"I'm not sure if that's more likely or less likely."

"What if it's someone from Remnant?" Blake interjected. "I mean, a lot of them have come forward, but maybe they've finally found someone who isn't lying."

"Why would they want them to meet us, though?" Ruby asked.

She shrugged. "Maybe they think we can tell if they're real or not. Maybe they think we know them or something."

"Just because we're from the same planet doesn't mean we'll know them," Weiss pointed out.

"But there is a chance there. Maybe it's someone they think we should know."

"I think it's pretty unlikely," Yang said. "But... maybe. Still, I'm going to go with giving us medals."

* * *

By the time she stepped out of customs, Rose was exhausted. She had been delayed by a bit of residue on her clothing that set off the sniffer dogs. Fortunately, the CBSA agents were professional and accepted her explanation that she must have picked it up somewhere at work. It still meant having a lengthy chat and thorough screening that she would have preferred to avoid, though. She grabbed a Pepsi out of a vending machine on her way out. Hopefully the caffeine would have an effect.

A dark-haired man waited outside with a sign that read _Rosalind Drake_. She immediately headed toward it.

"Hey," Rose greeted. "You must be-"

"I'm Constable Byron Lee, RCMP," the man introduced quickly. He motioned toward the parking lot. "I was read into all the Gemstone stuff just last week, so I'm still getting used to it."

"Rosalind Drake. Call me Rose." She shook his hand hard. "Well, I'm still getting used to being an alien," Rose quipped, the joke falling flat almost immediately. "Sorry."

"The car's this way," Byron told her, leading her toward the parking lot. "Unmarked, discreet. I thought it would be like serious spy shit when they told me, but it's really no different than working undercover. You ever worked undercover?"

She shrugged. "I pretended to be a hooker once, but not really." Turning serious, she asked, "Have they been told?"

"As far as I know, no." Byron grabbed a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked a car before climbing inside. "They've been told someone of interest that they might know will be meeting with them."

"Why?" She got in the passenger side and closed the door.

"For their own sake, mostly. What if you aren't who you think you are, or they don't recognize you? That's a worse bombshell to drop than the surprise of seeing their mom again." Byron started the car and pulled out. "Well, maybe they're trying to give you a chance to back out, too."

"How considerate," Rose acknowledged. "Couldn't you have done a maternity test, though?"

"We did. And if you were both Terran, we would be ninety-nine percent sure you were Ruby's mother. But we don't know if Remnan biology might have adverse effects on that tests- or at least, that's what they told me," he answered. "As far as we know, biologically, you are Summer Rose. Probably. They said it was a maybe but talked about it like a certainty."

"It's not my genes you're worrying about," she surmised successfully. "Amnesiac and ten years on Earth. I may be the biggest disappointment of their lives. Or... maybe they won't even fucking recognize me."

"Look, I believe you. And I think they will, too. It may have been a long time, and there may have been some bumps on the way, but you're still the same person. Just don't forget that. It might take time, but you'll figure it out." He paused. "But if they- or you can't... well, you know... just back out. We'll deal with it."

"Yeah."

"I'd imagine the government wants to talk to you, too, especially if your identity gets confirmed," Byron added quickly, changing topics.

"I'm not too worried about that," she replied dismissively.

"Are you ready to meet them?" he asked, pulling out of the parking spot.

"No," she answered honestly. "But I don't think I ever will be."

* * *

"Good morning, Siena," FBI Special Agent Sonia Kann greeted, entering the small living room of the country house. Though it sounded terrible, she was glad she'd drawn this assignment instead of the Torchwick one. This was her second visit with the Faunus terrorist, and she'd found her more than a bit depressing but at least not irritating. "How are you doing today?"

Siena didn't answer immediately, playing with her mug of coffee before responding honestly. "The waiting is killing me. Being stuck in here, a prisoner in an unconventional prison. If I'm going to have a real trial, give it to me. If I'm going to have a show trial, do it. If you're going to let me go, let me go. If you're going to execute me, have done with it."

"We're not going to execute you," Kann told her firmly.

The faunus glared at her. "Why not? I killed your people. I'm an animal, to be made an example of. It's happened a thousand times before, why should I be any different?"

"Due process," Kann answered. "The Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments. No matter how heinous the crime, no matter how despicable the individual, no matter what political motivations may exist, everyone has a right to a fair trial. This is something we take very seriously... or, at least, I like to believe we do."

Siena snorted.

"There will be a trial, and you will have a lawyer. Even cooperating, you probably won't get off easy. But you'll probably avoid the death penalty."

"Lyons already said all of that," Siena told her. "So if there's going to be a trial, why hasn't it happened already?"

"The long and short of it is that nobody knows what to do," she admitted. "It's a complicated, sensitive situation. You're a lot more of a divisive figure than you think, during a very tumultuous time. We don't want this to be a show trial, or to look like one."

"I didn't want any of this to happen," Siena said, regretfully. "I joined the Fang because I was tired of being kicked down by humans.. We did so much damage trying to build a better world for Faunus. How much of it was just hurting the innocent? We blew up trains, killed anti-Faunus activists, but how much of that was making a difference and how much of it was taking out our anger?"

Kann almost spoke up, but held back. Her charge wasn't finished.

"I know I'm not getting out of this. I've killed people who had nothing against me trying to chase some dream in an impossibly twisted way." She paused. "Must be a strange story to a planet full of humans."

"It's not as strange a story to us as you would think," Kann replied sadly. "Racism, hate, extremism, all things we've seen before time and time again."

"I don't understand your world," Siena said quietly.

"I don't either, and I was born into it."

* * *

"This is it," Byron told his charge, parking the car in front of a decent-sized if slightly messy house. "Remember what I said. If you want to back out, we can leave now and-"

"No," Rose said firmly.

He nodded. "Good luck, then."

Rose took a deep breath, exhaling before opening the door and stepping out of the vehicle. She strode briskly up the walkway, stopping before the door and hesitating. It felt right, but the uncertainties crept back into her mind. Her hand hovered an inch above the doorbell.

The door flew open, making her decision for her. In it stood a girl in her mid teens, dressed in a red hoodie that more or less matched the red highlights in her hair. Rose recognized her instantly.

"Our visitor is-" Ruby shouted excitedly before stopping suddenly. A pair of silver orbs stared up at her and blinked. "Mom?"

* * *

 


	22. A Meeting of Worlds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mixed feelings about this chapter, though length turned out not to be a problem.

"Mom?"

She was sure. "Yeah."

The crimsonette darted forward, locking her arms around her mother. Tears began soaking her blouse as she sobbed.

Mother embraced daughter. "I'm sorry."

"What the hell is-" an angry voice shouted, its owner appearing in the doorway. Yang shouted, "What the hell? Are you- fuck!"

"I'm Summer Rose," Rose told her.

"Where the fuck have you been for the last ten years? Why did you leave us? Why'd you leave your- fuck! God damn it!" Yang's eyes flashed red.

"New York, I don't remember, and yes," she answered, her other daughter still latched around her waist dripping tears all over her.

"You have a lot to explain!" Yang shouted before turning and stomping back into the house.

"Yes, I do," she muttered.

"I'm sorry," Ruby sniffled. "It's just been so long, and we thought you were dead, and Yang's really happy inside but it's hard and I missed you so much."

"Your sister's right. I do have a lot to explain." She shook her head. "I'm sorry for what I've done, Ruby. But I barely even know what that is. We just need to talk."

"I guess you should come inside," Ruby sniffled, reluctantly letting go. "It's been so long..."

"That's a good idea." She stepped inside the house, which was messy but surprisingly homely.

"I didn't mean to blow up on you," Yang apologized weakly, rage subsiding as she followed her into the living room. "But you do have a lot to explain."

A white-haired heiress and raven cat faunus were already there, hurrying past them toward the doorway. "We're just on our way out," Blake announced, half-dragging Weiss out.

Ruby sat down on the couch, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Her mother sat down beside her.

"You said you'd come back," Yang began. "And then you didn't. Why?"

"I wish I could tell you, but I don't remember," Rose explained. "The first clear memory I have is waking up in a hospital. You spent a year on Earth? I spent the better part of ten, not knowing who or what I was."

"Wait, what?" Yang asked.

Ruby perked up slightly. "Tell us the story!"

"Okay. Way back in 2005, somewhere in Manhattan..."

* * *

The TV was blaring some bullshit about a Presidential candidate building a wall, but Rose wasn't listening. The reunion went better than she could have expected, but it left her with a new feeling of... guilt? Failure? Disappointment in herself? A set of not-so-soft footsteps interrupted her thoughts.

Yang blinked as she entered the living room. "Is that-"

"Yes. She's sleeping like a rock, too," Rose answered. It had been a hell of a day, and her daughter had fallen asleep next to her, and was now leaning into her side, arms wrapped around her waist.

"It wasn't easy for us to get over... you know," Yang said hesitantly. "She never really did. Still has nightmares, sometimes."

"What about you, Yang?"

"You left us," she replied curtly. "We were still picking up the pieces. We'd thought we'd finally be a family again. Then you died."

"I'm sorry," she replied. "As I understand it, huntress is a dangerous job. There was always a chance I wouldn't come back."

Yang opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind. After a pause, she asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Stay here for a while. I missed you. Both of you. More than I realized. After that? I don't know," she answered. "I want to know what I missed. What I forgot. Who's the Summer Rose you remember?"

"Super-mom, slayer of cookies and baker of monsters," Yang replied, sitting down on the couch beside her. "Erm, that's not right."

She laughed. "No, I got it. So I really was super-mom? That's a lot to live up to."

"You still are." Yang replied. "Aren't you?"

"I barely remembered you." Rose grimaced. "Yang, I don't know how much of me is Summer Rose, how much is Rosalind Drake, and I'm going to disappoint you with who I am. I don't want to do that to you."

"Look, uh," Yang stammered. "We're really happy to have you back. It's not like nothing happened; it'll never be like that. But to us you're still the mom who left and came back. Maybe a little different, but you're still our mom."

She took a moment to think about it before asking, "What was life like back when we were a family?"

"I was only eight when you left. But we were a happy family back then. After... well, dad shut down, Ruby kind of drew into herself, and I became reckless." She sighed. "Really reckless."

"You're talking about the Raven Incident?"

"The what- yeah." It took her a moment to figure it out. "Over the years, I guess I just developed an attitude of... fuck it. Live in the moment and go wild, that sort of thing. I feel like I want to be a huntress for all the wrong reasons. I mean, sure, it's about protecting people. But how much of it is just because I just want a cheap thrill?"

"I can't tell you why I became a huntress. I don't remember," Rose replied. "But I can tell you why I walked into the NYPD precinct when I should have been learning to walk again. Part of it was the same drive to protect you have. But a lot of it was because I had a lot of questions and I thought it'd help me get answers."

"Look, I know you're here, but I still... well, I still want to find Raven," Yang said awkwardly. "It's not that... I just have a lot of questions."

"By all means, try to find her. You've got some burning questions and you can't not try to answer them," Rose answered carefully. "But don't let it consume you. Define you. Don't let it take away from the other important things. And don't do something that fucking stupid again."

"Preaching to the choir, mom."

"Am I?"

"Blake and Weiss will probably be back tomorrow," Yang said, deflecting the question. "See you in the morning."

"Well, that was fucking awkward," Rose muttered to herself. Beside her, Ruby shifted, muttering something that sounded vaguely like agreement and snuggling up closer to her mother.

* * *

Eighty miles away from the airport it departed from, a British Airways 747-400 flew smoothly through the cool morning air. Powered by four Rolls-Royce RB211 engines, the sleek airliner maintained an altitude of thirty thousand feet and a speed of 484 knots. Recent events had cooled enthusiasm for travel somewhat, and with a hundred and thirty one passengers aboard, it was barely filled to half capacity.

Captain Nigel Caldwell carefully monitored the instruments on the flight deck. The -400 was a newer variation of the classic jumbo jet, a product of the 1980s rather than the 1960s. Instead of mechanical "steam gauges", Nigel's cockpit readouts consisted of computer displays that displayed information about the plane's course, speed, altitude, and systems. It was a routine flight and nothing was out of the ordinary. Well, the EGT on the number 4 engine was a bit high, but they'd already noted it before they took off and it was still within operational parameters.

The copilot, First Officer Howard Manning, suddenly exclaimed, "What the bloody hell is that?" That drew the captain's attention instantly, and he followed his copilot's outstretched finger.

What he saw nearly made his eyes bulge out of his skull. It was as if the horizon had blurred into a mirage of red and sky blue, if the very air itself had turned into a gently shimmering puddle. At first it seemed small, but quickly grew to fill their entire view. He realized quickly that whatever it was, there was no way they could avoid it. He tried anyway, perhaps reacting because of his training, pushing the throttles forward and pulling back on the yoke. "God damn!"

The jumbo jet slammed into the disturbance at full speed. A light thump reverberated through the fuselage. Instinctively, Nigel shut his eyes, but when he opened them, found that the airplane was still flying with seemingly no damage.

"Dear god, where are we?" Howard asked. The greenery of British Columbia was replaced instantly with a deep red forest below them, and the thin wispy clouds of a sunny day had turned to ominous grey stormclouds.

"Can you take the airplane, Howard?" the Captain asked. He was thinking exactly the same thing.

"Yes, sir, my airplane." The first officer grasped the flight yoke, gently keeping the huge aircraft on course. He forced himself not to panic despite the situation. A calm, collected approach was what would get them safely back on the ground.

"Navigation's going bonkers," the captain remarked, looking at the warnings on his flight display. The intertial and magnetic headings were different and the GPS was out completely. He checked the ADF, a radio direction-finding system. The information it gave was erratic. "Any ideas?"

"I see a bright light, maybe some kind of tower down there," the copilot noted. "Is this Remnant? Looks like Forever Fall down there, maybe Beacon in the distance."

"You might not be wrong." The captain switched to the radio, checking that it was still on the frequency he'd set before taking off. "Pan pan pan, Vancouver Tower, Speedbird eight-four. We appear to have hit some kind of anomaly and are now flying over some kind of red forest. There is an, uh, possibility this may be Remnant. Please advise."

The response was garbled slightly, but understandable. "Speedbird eight-four, Vancouver tower. You just disappeared from our radar. Confirm you are flying over a red forest?"

"Well, we were over a green one a minute ago. We can also see some lights in the distance." He checked their own navigation equipment. "Heading zero-eight-one inertial but two-five-zero magnetic. GPS nonfunctional and ADF erratic."

"Standby, Speedbird eight-four. Recommend you maintain current course and speed. Will advise." He let go of the push to talk button. "The fuck have we gotten ourselves into this time?"

"Excellent question." He switched to the intercom, addressing the cabin. "This is your captain speaking. We appear to have made a slight navigational error. Please remain calm and in your seats. We'll get this sorted shortly and be back on our way to Heathrow in no time at all. I trust you are in not too much distress."

* * *

"Tell me what's going on," the President of the United States said bluntly. He was not been happy about being dragged out of bed on one of his few days off. He was even less happy with the reason he'd been told why.

"We have a probable portal to Remnant approximately a hundred miles away from Vancouver, British Columbia," the National Security Advisor told him. "Canadian authorities have cordoned it off and so far nothing has come through. It seems that objects can pass through from our side, though we're not sure about the opposite."

"How do we know about it?" the President asked. "How sure are we about what it is?"

"An airliner flew through it- it's still flying, and the world they're describing sounds a lot like the outskirts of Vale. The Canadians are scrambling fighters to take a look and bring the airliner back," she informed him. "Just after you woke up, we found amateur video on the Internet made by hikers who approached the anomaly. Gemstone in Vancouver is trying to track them down now. We're running the numbers on neutrino bursts now."

"Mister President, it's our belief that if nothing has come through, that will change soon, and whatever comes through will be very nasty," the Secretary of Defense told him. "We need to be ready for that. The Canadians and the Brits are already working up."

"The Brits?" the President asked, surprised.

"They have a training unit in southern Alberta," he explained. "Potentially equivalent to an armored battalion in strength."

He nodded. "Get our guys ready, too."

"We have to make contact with the other side," the Secretary of State added.

"What if they're the ones who did it and they have hostile intent?" SecDef protested.

"What if _they_ think _we're_ the ones who did it and _we_ have hostile intent," he shot back before turning to the President. "Sir, I recommend we at least broadcast the welcome message."

He considered it for a moment. "It's on Canadian soil, so it's not our call to make, but tell them I agree with your recommendation."

"We don't know if this will be the only portal or if there will be more or where, though it's likely two will be on our soil," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs said. "I recommend we mobilize our troops, start activating the National Guard and preparing for an invasion."

"Jesus Christ, Martin!" the Secretary of State exclaimed.

"Sir, for the record, I agree with the General," the National Security Advisor said to the President.

"He's right," the President acknowledged. "Do what you need to do. We need to inform the rest of the world, too. The Gemstone members, NATO, even- especially- the Russians and the Chinese. John?"

SecState nodded reluctantly. "Yes, Mister President, I'm on it."

The President turned back to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. "Coordinate with the Canadian Forces. Any help from us they want, they get. This could be the greatest threat of our-"

A technician held out a phone toward the President. "Sir, I have a phone call from the Prime Minister of Canada."

The President took the phone. "Hello? Yes... no, definitely not... Yes, Stephen, we are one hundred percent behind you... No, there is no explicit military cooperation in Gemstone... Yes, that'll work. If you invoke Article 5, we are one hundred percent behind you and we can debate the semantics later."

"Sir, Gemstone alert is BLACK RUIN," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs reminded him. "In accordance, it is the formal recommendation of the Joint Chiefs of Staff that we escalate all conventional forces to DEFCON 1 and all strategic forces to DEFCON 3."

"In other words, what he said thirty seconds ago," SecDef elaborated.

The President did not hesitate. "Do it."

"It's also my recommendation that we move to the National Airborne Operations Center immediately," he added. "We do not know if Washington will remain secure."

The President nodded slowly. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

"This is as close as we're allowed to get, but as you can see, this is a very, very strange phenomenon," the reporter said, a blurry rift in the background. "It's hard to tell how big it is, but it's very high and seems to be at least a football field across. It's now believed that it is indeed the world of Remnant on the other side. At this point we don't know if this is a portal that can be crossed or simply a view to the other world. There are unconfirmed reports that a civil aircraft has crossed the portal..."

"Great timing, isn't it?" Rose remarked quietly as she watched the news on TV. She examined the bottle in her hands, glaring at Yang disapprovingly. "Budweiser. You shouldn't be drinking, young lady. Or, if you do, at least have some goddamn taste." She flicked the top off and took a swig anyway. "And don't drink and drive. That's fucking stupid and you'll ruin everyone's lives."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not the most responsible person, but I'm not that stupid." Yang insisted. "So, what are we gonna do?"

"Wait," she replied. "Wait for them to figure out if it really is a portal, wait for them to secure it, wait for them to make contact and wait for them to offer us a trip."

"What?" Yang snapped. "We should be going already! This is our chance to go home!"

"If it is what you think it is, which it might not be," Rose replied calmly. "Yang, I know you miss home. You want to get back as soon as possible. But I barely remember Remnant, and I've spent ten years here. I'd like to go back, to find out who I really am. I've waited ten years already. What's a few more days to tie up the loose ends?"

"I suppose you're right," Yang admitted.

"Wait," Ruby interrupted. "What about the Grimm? Even if we didn't want to go home, Earth doesn't have any hunters! We should be there to defend it!"

"In case you haven't noticed, this world is really good at killing things. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"You're one of the greatest huntresses that ever lived!" Ruby exclaimed.

"Was, Ruby, was. I remembered that I killed monsters. I think my Aura still works. I don't even know my own Semblance," Rose said sombrely. "Being a hero always feels like the right thing, but it's not always the smart thing."

"Canadian Forces Reserve, a few days, maybe a week. US Marines, 72 hours. US Army Airborne or Royal Marines, both 24 hours," Yang listed.

Rose did the math in her head. "Shit."

"See? We need to get out there!" Ruby yelled.

"You're not wrong. But this is some serious shit, Ruby," Rose cautioned. "Four- eight if we can get your friends in on this- students, out of practice, and one cop who might have once been a huntress against god knows what. Maybe we _can_ help. But jumping in isn't the right way to do it."

"I know it's important and there's a lot at stake and we could die. We've already done that even though we're students and we know it's dangerous but it's what being a huntress is about," Ruby pleaded. "Also, once we're there we can get help from Ozpin and Beacon."

"That's my girl." Summer cracked a thin smile. It was all insane, all of it. Yet it felt so _right_. "Okay. Let's talk to them."

* * *

 

 


	23. Crossing the Divide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written during a very hectic week but I'm sure you won't be able to tell.

Although they didn't get a clear answer on what would happen when they got there, the nine Remnans soon found themselves in a police convoy heading in the direction of the portal at high speed. Rose had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't going to be let anywhere near it, let alone through it, but kept that to herself. Most likely, they would want them to help communicate with the other side, not make physical contact.

"Wow, Chilliwack really isn't that far away when there's no traffic," Yang commented lightly. "Well, I mean, there's traffic, but..."

"Yeah, the siren really comes in handy. I can't count the number of times I've used it to cut through traffic to get the donut shop," Rose joked back.

The car came to a stop, and they stepped out into the parking lot. Chilliwack's small municipal airport was now a hub of official activity. RCMP officers stood guard, blocking the roads and keeping civilians away. Among the light planes that normally used the airport were several helicopters with US, Canadian, and British markings, as well as C-130 and C-17 cargo aircraft.

Their police escort showed his badge to one of the RCMP officers, and he directed them toward the small terminal building. It was abuzz with activity, with police, military, and civilians setting up equipment wherever it would fit. A group of tough-looking men in combat gear sat in the airport coffee shop.

"The military is turning Chilliwack airport into a full-on forward operating base," Iverson explained to them, standing up and putting down his laptop. "It's the closest airstrip to the portal, so a lot is going to be brought in by air through here or Abbotsford."

"So, when are we going through the portal?" Ruby asked eagerly.

"I can't give you an answer for that," he replied. "There's a lot of things we have to go through first."

"Like what?"

An officer wearing the insignia of a Canadian Army Colonel glanced at Iverson. He nodded in reply.

"We've started broadcasting the welcome message," the Colonel answered. "We're listening on every band we can and we're hoping to hear a response- if that happens, it's above my pay grade and we go from there. If that doesn't work, NASA is prepping a special aircraft to conduct initial recon. The US Air Force might bring in Rivet Joint, too."

"Wait, NASA?" Ruby asked. "The space people?"

"National _Aeronautics_ and Space Administration. It's complicated. I don't know the specifics myself; it's classified."

"So what's between us and the portal?" Rose asked.

"Right now, police. The 75th Ranger Regiment will be there within the hour. First heavy unit will be BATUS by the end of the day, along with a Marine unit and our own reserves by the end of tomorrow. Air support is already here, from our air force and the US Navy," he answered. "We can take care of a few stragglers. We have the high ground and the terrain favours us. Worst case, we pull back toward Chilliwack and push back to the portal once heavier equipment arrives."

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do but wait," Iverson told the disappointed Remnans. "However, we're about to bring a 747 home. You're welcome to listen in."

* * *

Forty-thousand feet above a red forest, a Boeing 747-400 circled quickly in a loose holding pattern. The pilots had been advised to climb and accelerate, and they did so immediately. Soon after, they'd been joined by a pair of CF-18 Hornet fighter aircraft.

"Okay, Speedbird eight-four, our priority is to get you home," the pilot of the lead fighter told them over the radio. "I'm going to try penetrating the anomaly. If I can make it back through, I'll radio you from the other side. It'll be your call whether you take your plane through behind me, but your only other option will be to find a place to land here."

"Copy that, Hawk Lead," Nigel acknowledged. "Good luck, mate."

The CF-18 disengaged, leaving his wingman with the 747. He banked to the left and accelerated, white trails forming as he tickled the edge of the sound barrier. Within thirty seconds, he disappeared from view.

"You know, they never told us if this is actually Remnant," Howard mentioned.

"I don't know if they know."

"A hundred quid if it turns out, then."

Nigel considered it for a moment. "Not going to take you up on it. It's a-"

"Speedbird eight-four, this is Hawk Lead back on Earth," the fighter pilot called. "The ride was slightly bumpy but we made it back fine."

"Copy that, lead. Speedbird eight-four, coming home." Nigel eased the yoke over, banking the plane in a far more gentle emulation of the fighter's maneuver. That put them on a straight course for the portal. He was tempted to throttle back and slow the airliner, but the fighter pilot had gone through and he wanted to match what the other pilot had done as closely as possible.

They hit the anomaly at high speed, passing through in under a second. The plane bumped up and down again like it had hit a sudden burst of turbulence. The strange red forest disappeared, replaced with the emerald green forests of British Columbia.

"Vancouver Tower, Speedbird eight-four," Nigel called giddily. "We're back in Terran airspace, request a vector for landing."

* * *

"...desire peaceful dialogue and await your response."

Headmaster Ozpin leaned back in his chair as the recording ended. It was the third time he listened the broadcast, and again he found himself curious and enthralled. He was fairly sure it was not a hoax. It could be the most profound transmission ever heard in all of history. "Hmm..."

"It is quite the thing, isn't it?" a strong voice called.

"Back so soon, James?" Ozpin asked, turning in his chair as General Ironwood entered the room. "I half expected you to have penetrated the anomaly with guns blazing by now."

"I could have moved in and secured the anomaly, by all means necessary," Ironwood told his old friend. "It might have even been the best course of action. Technically, I have standing orders to do so. But I hesitated. Now I have people screaming at me to move in and people pushing at me to pull back."

"And because you have hesitated, we are now able to open dialogue with the people on the other side of that portal," Ozpin reminded him.

"Yes, and probably lost our best chance at taking Earth." The general sighed. "We've lost the initiative, and more importantly everyone's heard the broadcast. There would be hell to pay if we started a war. And if they're lying, if they're gearing up to invade _us,_ then every second we wait is a second of preparation for them."

He raised an eyebrow. "Certainly we should view them with some suspicion, but open hostility?"

"If you could snatch a safe haven out of the hands of primitives with minimal losses, wouldn't you?" Ironwood asked rhetorically. "Except now we know they're at least advanced enough to send us radio messages." _Tell me I made the right choice, Oz._

"I've sent a team of some of my best huntsmen and some of my most promising students to secure the anomaly," the Headmaster told him instead of answering. "Hopefully, they will make peaceful contact. If not, I'm sure they will be able to defend themselves."

"Without any official sanction?" Ironwood asked, surprised. "Are you sure that's a good idea? The Council is not going to be happy."

Ozpin's reply was calm. "The Council already is dissatisfied with me. You said it yourself, James. Many are asking for war, and in fact your standing orders are to start one. We must ascertain the true intentions of these Earthers as soon as possible."

"Are you sure it's not going to turn out a mistake? You might be jumping the gun here, Oz."

"Were your not so eager to launch an invasion only a moment ago? Better the ambassadors first than the invaders." Ozpin paused. "History will be the judge, James. We must simply wait."

* * *

"We have contact."

As soon as the announcement was made, the loud, bustling airport terminal turned silent.

"They've returned our call on our frequency," Iverson explained, bringing up a digital recording for the others to hear. "We just picked this up from our forward-deployed radios."

"Greetings, people of Earth. I am Headmaster Ozpin, representing the people of Remnant for the time being. I have dispatched a team of our best to secure the portal and make contact with the people of Earth." a familiar voice crackled.

"That's Headmaster Ozpin!" Nora shouted redundantly.

"The people you will meet will be hunters, the protectors of our world," the Headmaster continued. "They will be armed, but you must understand that our world is dangerous, and that they are armed merely for the purpose of self-defence. In fact, I advise you proceed cautiously. The Creatures of Grimm are monsters that inhabit our world and..."

"They're expecting us to meet them on their world," Iverson explained.

"Do we drop the bombshell on them?" Rose asked. "That we already know and that we're standing here ready to go back?"

"No," Iverson said. "Not over an open channel." He turned to a woman wearing the distinctive camouflage of the Canadian Forces. "We stick to the script. Give them the cryptic reply. We have some knowledge of their world and look forward to meeting them."

"Yes, sir."

"Colonel Hale, what do you think?"

"It's a complicated situation, sir," a heavily armed man in CADPAT told him. "We have to strike a balance between protecting our men and not appearing too aggressive to the Remnans."

Seeing the perplexed look of RWBY, Iverson explained, "Colonel Hale is leading the military contact team."

He nodded. "We're going to have to meet them either on Remnant or barely on Earth, so we'll need to take position near the portal. We can try to meet them before they meet the bulk of our forces, but that will leave us vulnerable. Best bet is to go out front with limited air and armour support, but the rest of it behind enough that the Remnans won't see them yet close enough that they can move to support us."

"We don't have a lot out there yet," Iverson reminded him.

"Yes, sir. But we do have the Apaches, and those are second only to the AC-130 for close support. If things get too hot, we'll retreat and wait for the cavalry to arrive. That's why we stick close to the portal and that's why we stay mobile." He paused. "Of course, this all hinges on the portal being traversable. We know it can be done at speed and altitude, but we'll have to try it with the MALP before we go through."

"MALP?" Ruby asked, confused by the acronym.

"Mobile Analytical Laboratory Probe. It's actually just a bomb robot with a few modifications; the name is a reference to something before your time," He turned to Iverson. "Speaking of robots-"

"I had Morris check an hour ago. The Reaper is halfway across the country," Iverson told him.

"So that leaves us with your COTS units, our ScanEagle, and the Shadows the Rangers brought with them." He thought about it. "It's not ideal, but we can work with that. It means that Apaches will be doing a bit more."

"Let us come with you," Ruby offered. "We can bring a lot of extra firepower."

"On one hand, I've seen what you can do. On the other hand, it's a lot of unknowns I have to deal with. And I don't feel comfortable bringing them on a military operation," Hale admitted candidly.

"Technically, it's not," Iverson reminded him.

"Colonel, we could be meeting people I knew personally," Rose interjected. "Look at this from a diplomatic point of view. There's meeting strange aliens who know who you are and then there's meeting an old friend."

"It's your call, Hale." Iverson stated. Indeed, Gemstone was no longer calling the shots. Technically, authority resided with a NATO commander, but the chain of command was still in flux.

He mulled it over, knowing that he'd be responsible for the decision if it went south. "It'll take ten minutes to preflight the chopper. You have until then to do what you have to do."

* * *

"You sure you're up for this, Tai?" Qrow asked his brother in law, shouting over the noise of the engines. He held a grab handle tightly with one hand and his weapon with the other, the Bullhead bumping around and threatening to throw a less coordinated person out the open door.

"I'm fine," he answered coldly, continuing to inspect his weapon. The man had aged in the past year, looking noticeably older and more haggard than before. The loss of his daughters affected him deeply, and he'd left his teaching position at Signal in favour of Grimm extermination missions.

"Don't you think it's a bit weird that we have two huntsmen with us but neither of them are Beacon professors?" Coco mused from the other side of the Bullhead.

"I heard they're old friends of Ozpin's," Velvet said to her leader. She sat in the back of the Bullhead beside her gigantic teammate, Yatsuhashi.

"A portal to another world, eh?" Coco asked. "Man, that's crazy. I bet this is just some overblown training mission."

"I don't know, the broadcast seemed pretty real to me," Fox interrupted. He stood at the front of the Bullhead, next to the cockpit.

"It's real, kid," Qrow interrupted. "There's another world past that anomaly, and they're talking to us. They say they're peaceful, but who knows. Keep your guard up, because the Grimm might not be our only enemies. We have no idea what these people are capable of."

* * *

Far away on the other side of the portal, a convoy of military vehicles rolled down Chilliwack Lake Road. A mixture of militarized SUVs and military trucks, they carried both the special team and their equipment toward their destination.

"This road will take us most of the way to the site," Colonel Hale explained, mostly to the civilians riding in the back of the truck with him. "After that, we'll switch to the ATVs and Gators. There are trails and old logging roads that will get us the rest of the way. We'll split up into mixed Terran-Remnan teams and wait along the length of the portal."

"How much warning will we have in the Grimm show up?" Yang asked him. She tense, like the others, but not for the same reasons. Riding in the back of a military truck brought some not so fond memories to mind.

"Enough to get the hell out of the way," the soldier told her. "It's wide open terrain, so if shit starts going downhill, the plan is to bolt and let someone else take care of it. We'll only engage them ourselves if we have to and there aren't enough to make it futile. Otherwise, we have Apaches and soon we'll have LAVs and maybe tanks."

He handed a rifle identical to the one he carried to the Remnan woman across from him. "Do you know how to use that? It's more like what you had in your department than what you had on Remnant."

Rose nodded. "It's an AR-15 with bigger bullets and a giggle switch. I've got it."

"I can't believe we're finally going to see home again," Ruby buzzed, excited. "Do you think we'll see Dad and Zwei?"

"Hopefully, kid," Rose told her daughter.

"Caution is the name of the game. We don't want any heroes. If anyone spots the Remnan contact team, radio it in. We'll regroup and head toward them," Colonel Hale instructed one final time. "Be conservative if you encounter Grimm. Pull back, regroup, and let the heavier assets take care of them."

* * *

The Bullhead hovered above the stark red of the forest, engines pointed downward with their exhaust visibly flattening the trees below. A small patch of red-covered ground was visible below them. Qrow motioned to the other passengers before silently stepping off and descending to the ground below.

"Showtime," Coco told her team, jumping to Earth behind them. Her team landed elegantly on the ground as they'd done a thousand times before. Another second year team, AAZR, came down after, with Taiyang bringing up the rear. Immediately after he jumped, the Bullhead pulled up and flew away.

"Okay. Remember, we get to the portal and meet the Earthers," Qrow repeated. "Kill any Grimm in the way, but they're not the mission, and we don't want to scare the Earthers too much-"

"What if we're scared of them?" Velvet asked quietly.

Taiyang was already heading into the forest. "I'm not scared of any dirt people."

* * *

Two kilometers from the portal, a pair of American soldiers sat inside what looked like a truck with a satellite dish on top. In fact, it was a mobile ground control station for their RQ-7 Shadow unmanned aerial vehicle. The "satellite dish" was not a satellite dish at all, but rather a directional antenna pointed at the UAV flying thousands of feet above them. Their job was to monitor the Shadow's camera feed and keep watch for potential threats approaching their teams on the ground.

"Hey, what's this?" one of the soldiers asked his companion, pointing at a black blip on the screen. "Should I call it?"

The other soldier, the more experienced of the two, took a brief glance. "Yeah, call it."

"Jumper Three, Rake Three-One, looks like you have some something headed your way," he told the ground team over the radio. "Maybe a small Grimm or two heading toward you from near perpendicular. Looks like one mile out."

 _Perpendicular_ in this case meant perpendicular to the portal on the Remnan side. One of the challenges that had immediately come up was dealing with directions with the strange portal involved. The solution was fairly simple; use the portal itself as a reference.

The reply came over the radio. "Copy that, Rake Three-One. Vacating the area, thanks for the heads-up."

Satisfied, the Rangers commanded the drone to climb and turn away to observe a different part of the forest where a group of something had appeared to stop. They'd check later to see if there were more and they were still coming, but they believed the immediate threat had been appropriately acted upon. Unfortunately, they- and the intelligence officers that had advised them- had missed one crucial detail.

The Shadow's nitrogen-cooled infrared camera worked by picking up the heat emitted by a potential object of interest, perhaps a human or a vehicle. But the Creatures of Grimm are not alive in the biological sense, and while they have a thermal signature, it is much different than that of a living being. The thermal camera could see through trees to an extent, but the red trees of the forest blocked infrared light in a way normal green trees did not.

What they had thought was a single stray Grimm was something else entirely.

* * *

Slowly but surely, the Remnans made their way through the forest. They hadn't encountered more than a few scattered and easily dispatched Grimm, but knew it could change at any time. The group paused in a clearing for a brief bite to eat, a check-in with Ozpin, and to get their bearings.

"What the hell is that noise?" Coco complained after finishing her sandwich. They'd heard it a few times, fading in and out. It was a strange sort of whapping sound, almost like an engine but not quite.

"Some kind of flying machine?" Arvin Laguna, leader of Team AAZR, asked. "Like their version of a tiltjet?"

"It doesn't _sound_ like one."

He nodded agreement. "True."

"Is it that thing?" Yatsuhashi suggested, pointing at a spot in the sky from behind them.

"What thing- oh. I thought it was a bird."

"Could be it," Qrow acknowledged, coming up behind them. He raised a spyglass to his eye. "Hmm. Looks like a little airplane. They're scouting from the air."

"Should we wave?" Arvin asked.

The veteran huntsman shook his head. "Nah, they won't see us."

"Too bad," Coco said. "Hey, Arvin, what do you think these Earthers will be like?"

"They're smart enough to build those and return our call," he replied. "I don't know much about the Earth legends. They talk about a primitive world, but they're old legends. No reason they can't be true, just a thousand years removed. That's a long time to develop."

"It's supposed to be a world without Dust. You think they'd develop advanced technology?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"What's bothering you?" Qrow asked the girl standing near the edge of the group. Her rabbit ears were twitching. Qrow knew the Faunus had superior hearing to humans, and the rabbit faunus with her massive ears likely more so. It wasn't racism but scientific fact.

"Something's not right," Velvet Scarlatina replied quietly. "I think I can hear strange noises. Machines and maybe animals or Grimm. From near the portal, that way." She pointed. "I don't know. Maybe I'm imagining things."

"Give yourself some credit, kid," Qrow told her. He turned to his current partner. "Tai?"

"I'm going to circle around and scout out ahead," the seasoned hunter responded. "It could be nothing, it could be the Earthers, or it could be the Grimm."

"Be careful, " Qrow cautioned. He received no answer, the other huntsman having already disappeared into the trees.

* * *

Just past the threshold of the portal, a Gator rumbled along the rugged ground near the edge of the treeline. The vehicle was somewhere between a quad bike and a jeep, perhaps better described as a golf cart on steroids. Normally, it carried two people and a small amount of cargo. This one had a man driving and a woman riding shotgun- or, more literally, rifle. Another Gator zipped along ten meters behind them.

"You really fought those things?" Sergeant Matthew Trembley asked the woman sitting beside him. "The Grimm, I mean."

"Once upon a time," she answered. Her trained eyes scanned back and forth for threats. It wasn't something that could be unlearned. "Don't remember a lot, though. Not what they look like or how to kill them. You probably know more than I do."

"That's- holy shit!" A black shape appeared in the treeline and bolted toward them. Grimm.

"Go!" Rose shouted, bringing up her rifle and firing off a round in the general direction of the creature.

Matthew needed no second bidding. A hardened military man, he felt true fear as the black creature barreled toward them. He hammered the accelerator, sending them veering away from the creature and toward the portal. "Jumper Three, we have encountered the Grimm, requesting immediate assistance!"

The Gator behind them was equipped with a machine gun, and the gunner behind it unleashed a flurry of .50 caliber rounds at the creature. The first few didn't appear to do much, but he kept on it and the creature soon ground to a halt.

His radio crackled, "Jumper Three, Jumper One, copy, we are moving to assist."

Another two Grimm emerged from the bush. The first zipped toward the rear Gator, which swerved out of the way and opened fire again. The other went straight for Matthew and Rose. She pulled the trigger to get only a click in return. Cursing, she slammed in a new magazine and leaned back, firing at the Grimm as it bounded toward them.

"Shit!" Matthew swore, hitting the brakes and swerving to narrowly avoid a jutting boulder. The sudden deceleration gave the creature the opening it needed. He turned away and toward the portal, but it was too late. The creature leaped up over the vehicle, claws extended. With a splattering of deep crimson blood, his head was gone. His dead foot slammed down on the accelerator, sending them careening into the forest.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" Rose awkwardly grabbed the wheel, twisting it to keep vehicle from slamming into a tree. They erupted into a narrow valley, which bought her enough time to push the corpse out the vehicle and off the accelerator. She couldn't reach the brake, and the vehicle was slow to lose momentum. The barely controlled vehicle hit a boulder and flipped onto its side, carving a deep trench into the soft loam.

Sure enough, the impact hurt substantially less than she thought it would. Rose was a bit worse for wear, but surprisingly alive. The headless body thrown to the ground beside her was in much worse shape. She laughed ironically as she picked herself up, knowing there were many more of those things out there hungry for a bite of her tasty flesh. Her rifle was empty, but seemed to be intact, so she quickly swapped magazines.

A voice from the body called to her. "Jumper Three interrogative, what's your status? Where are you?"

She picked up the radio and held the transmit button. "Jumper One, this is Rose, Trembley's dead. I'm in some kind of a valley. Kinda rocky."

"Jumper Three, Rake One-Actual, reinforcements are inbound," another voice announced. "Drones are getting a fix on your position."

She was about to respond when she noticed a blonde-haired figure at the edge of the clearing. He appeared to stay still, staring, and she realized he was incredibly familiar. A black shape appeared from behind him. Her eyes widened. "Move, you dumb fucker!"

Rose raised her rifle, flipped the safety to auto and held down the trigger. Twenty rounds of 7.62 unloaded in the space of a few seconds only pissed the creature off, and it turned its terrifying red eyes toward her.

She briefly toyed with the idea of charging the creature, bolting forward with some kind of spear-flail. She dismissed the thought immediately, noticing a black shape in the corner of her eye. She scrambled for it as the creature began its charge.

Rose picked up the grenade launcher, rolling out of the way of the charging creature before aiming down the reflex sight and pulling the trigger. A high-explosive grenade exploded out the barrel, covering the distance in a split second and blasting the bone over the creature's face into splinters. She pulled the trigger again, rotating the next chamber into place and sending another round into the creature. Bits of black substance sprayed in all directions before evaporating.

She turned toward the blond man. Blue eyes locked with silver. "Tai."

"No." His confused expression turned to a hard glare. A whirring of gears echoed through the forest as he readied his weapon. "You're dead."

"Aw shit."


	24. Paving The Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I forgot to post this here. I'm going to be perfectly honest, AO3 is my lowest priority when it comes to updating. Either I'm misreading the stats completely, or there are only a handful of people who read this fic on this site.
> 
> On a side note, I honestly have no idea what Taiyang will actually end up using as a weapon.

"You're dead," the blond-haired man repeated. Segmented metal plates extended from an armor plate on his right shoulder, enclosing his entire right arm. He flexed his left hand, and what looked like a gun barrel extended from a bracer on his wrist.

Rose backpedaled away from her husband as he advanced, ready to swing. She shouted at him, "Goddamn it, Tai, I'm standing right here."

"Who _are_ you?" he shouted, swinging fast with his metal fist.

"Summer Rose!" She evaded the attack with a degree of agility she didn't know she had. "It's really me, you dumb shit!"

"Sure." He leaped back and to one side, feinting with his armoured fist and thrusting with his other. A loud bang erupted from the weapon and a burst of buckshot kicked up the dirt around Rose's rapidly moving feet. "Then where were you?"

She ducked below his swing. "Stuck here for the past ten fucking years."

Tai glared at her intensely. "If you're really my wife, what colour was Ruby's third birthday cake?"

"What-" His armoured fist connected when Rose paused to think about it, and she was sent painfully to the ground. "I have amnesia, I don't know!"

"You lying bitch!"

"Goddamn it Tai!" Rose shouted. "Maybe I'm Summer, maybe I'm not, but are you going to fuck up the-" She was cut off by an angry flurry of metal and buckshot punches. She felt at least one of them connect, hard enough to make her stumble but not knock her off her feet.

Her opponent was far from giving up. With a yell, Taiyang leapt forward with unexpected ferocity, catching Rose by surprise and pinning her to the ground. He raised his armoured fist for the killing blow, rage and anguish visible in his eyes.

"What are you going to say to Ruby when she finds out you killed her mom the day after the first time she met her in ten years?" Rose asked softly.

Taiyang hesitated, drawing back his arm a fraction of an inch.

At that point, Rose became aware of a noise coming from the radio tossed onto the ground a few metres away from them. She couldn't make out the words, but was pretty sure what it was saying. She'd been briefed on it. "I answer that or we both die."

Taiyang stood up, keeping his weapons at the ready. He nodded toward it.

"...do you copy? Do you declare bad contact?" the radio buzzed at Rose as she picked it up.

"Negative, negative," she answered quickly. She'd been exaggerating, but not by much. "Call it tense but peaceful first contact. Bring the cavalry."

"My god, what have I done?" Taiyang said, folding his weapons back up.

"Completely lost your shit, but don't worry, you only _almost_ ruined one of the most significant meetings in human history," Rose replied sarcastically, the ribbing coming easily to her tongue. Almost too easily.

"I knew I'd get in trouble eventually," he told her, managing a slight smile. "We have a lot to talk about."

"Yeah," Rose agreed, stepping toward him. "Been a long fucking time, Tai."

"Way too long." They were face-to-face, almost touching. Boldly, he stepped forward, drawing his wife into a tight embrace. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." She grabbed his neck and drew his head in, their lips easily finding their way together. It was so familiar and so _right_.

A familiar high-pitched voice interrupted their embrace. "Mom! Dad? Ew!"

Taiyang drew back. His eyes lit up when he saw the source of the interruption. "Ruby!"

"Hi dad!" She dashed forward and leaped into his arms.

He gripped his daughter tight. He'd lost her once, damnit, and wasn't about to do it again. Hell, he wasn't even sure if this was really happening, but he'd take it. They melted into each others arms, but he became aware of a strange sound- _engines_? "What's that?"

"The cavalry," Rose answered, flashing a thumbs-up to the rapidly approaching vehicles.

* * *

"Stop here and dismount," Colonel Hale ordered, slowing his ATV to a stop near the Remnan family. Behind him, a Gator rolled to a stop, and a pair of Humvees emerged through the portal and halted nearby. JTF2 operators and US Army Rangers moved to secure the area.

He glanced in the direction of the crashed Gator and the dead soldier pasted all over it. As much as he hated to admit it- the death of a soldier under his command was far from trivial- he had more important matters at hand. He already had a subordinate on the gruesome task. He turned to the Remnans. Both Rose and Taiyang looked worse for wear, and the ground around them was badly torn up. There had been a fight, but fortunately it hadn't resulted disaster. He steeled himself. Professionalism was key.

Hale strode toward the powerful Huntsman. "I'm Colonel Hale. You must be Taiyang Xiao Long. On behalf of Canada, the United States, and the people of Earth, greetings. We have a lot to talk about. Our peoples have a lot to talk about."

And he'd botched it. He was a soldier trying to play diplomat.

"Taiyang Xiao Long. I'm a Huntsman from Remnant." Taiyang replied easily, the Colonel's fears misplaced. He motioned to his wife and daughter and added matter-of-factly, "You've already met them. You must know a lot about us already."

"Yes, sir. There's a long story to that that you wouldn't believe." Behind him, more vehicles converged on their location. "This location isn't safe. May I ask what your plans are for initiating formal contact?"

"You'll have to ask Qrow or-"

"Dad?"

"Yang?"

The blonde brawler rushed forward, embracing her father like her sister had. "You look like shit, dad."

"I missed you," he quietly told his daughter.

A rustling in the bushes grabbed their attention, and dozens of guns from rifles to sniper scythes and grenade machine guns swivelled in that direction. The ominous clanking sound of a cocking machine gun echoed through the valley.

Colonel Hale pointed his rifle at the disturbance. "Identify yourselves!"

"We're the Remnan special team," came a gravelly response.

Hale turned to Taiyang and nodded.

"It's safe, Qrow. The Earthers are friendly and they already know us."

The bushes rustled once more, and the grey-swathed huntsman emerged into the valley. He was followed by a motley crew of eight Beacon students, four of which Hale recognized as Team CFVY and four which he'd never seen before.

"Qrow, this is Colonel Hale," Taiyang introduced. He motioned to the Remnans from Earth, which now included Weiss Schnee and Blake Belladonna in addition to his daughters. "You already know them."

Qrow locked eyes with Rose. "You're dead."

"So I've been told," she replied wryly, rolling her eyes.

"Who's my sister?"

"Raven. Raven Branwen. You've confirmed I'm from Remnant and vaguely know your family."

"What was the name of the team she was on?"

"Shit." She had to think about that. "Uh, fuck. I don't remember what it was called. I led it, you were on it, Tai was on it, but I can't give you a name. Look, I didn't say I was no worse for wear."

"Sir, I recommend we head back Earthside," Hale interrupted. "We have a prepared meeting location, or we can arrange transport to a location on Remnant from a safe position. We have a lot to talk about, but you know as well as I do that here is not safe."

Qrow nodded agreement. "Yeah, let's go."

Hale motioned to the Rangers, and they immediately began mounting up again. He told the Remnans, "Find a ride and mount up."

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?" Qrow asked his nieces as they climbed into the back of a truck. "Everyone thought you were dead. How'd you end up here?"

Ruby and Yang shared a look. The latter answered, "Actually, we have no idea. None of us remember that. We were going after Cinder, I think, something happened, and we woke up on Earth."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Must have been a hell of a shock, waking up in such a strange place. What was it like on the other side?"

"I ended up just outside Vancouver," Ruby answered. She pointed. "It's a big city like Vale, over there. But Yang ended up in a warzone."

"Warzone? How'd you fight your way out of there?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," Yang said quietly.

Qrow opened his mouth to speak, but withered under Rose's intense glare. _Leave it, Qrow._

"Any thoughts, honey?" Tai asked his wife.

"I only met them again yesterday," Rose told him. "Now's maybe not the best time to talk about it, but I don't remember much before waking up in a hospital in Manhattan."

"Wait, what?"

"Bits and pieces. I've spent the last ten years looking for my life" She smiled thinly. She should bring up- no, now wasn't a good time. She'd talk about it later. "It wasn't all bad, Tai. I was a police officer. Probably suspended now, but it was nice while it lasted."

"So you thought you were Terran?"

"I couldn't have known any better at the time," she answered. "Like I said, it's a long story."

* * *

"All units, be advised, you have heavy opposition inbound," a distorted voice informed them over the radios. "We believe this is a large concentration of Grimm. ETA five minutes."

"Shit," Hale muttered. The gaggle of vehicles slowed to a halt, only a hundred meters or so away from the portal.

"Colonel Hale," a Ranger shouted, stepping out of the lead Humvee. "We'll take care of it. Grab your VIPs and get out of here."

"Already on it." He turned and strode over to a confused Qrow hopping off the back of a Humvee. "Sir, Colonel Cobb and his Rangers will take care of the Grimm. It is my strong recommendation that we exfiltrate to our prepare meeting location-"

"Bullshit." Qrow unsheathed his weapon. "We're not going anywhere until those Grimm are dead. It's literally my job... you know that already."

"Sir, my orders are to begin an official dialogue between our people, and this is going to delay that at the very least."

" An enemy which your world has never fought."

It was clear to him that the man would not budge. "Are you sure, sir? Our goal is to make diplomatic contact, and if I'm not mistaken so is yours."

"We _are_ making diplomatic contact. There's a saying on our world about the bonds forged in combat," Qrow told him.

"Okay, sir." Realizing he was never going to convince the huntsman, he turned to the Ranger commander. "Colonel, they're not going to leave."

The Ranger chewed his lip. "Okay. We're going to have to work with them. And you?"

"We go where they go. If that's here, it's here."

"Alright then." He was already issuing orders. "Defensive positions! Rangers lead the way, let's go!"

"Okay, Qrow, we do things a little different here on Earth," Hale explained. "Long story short, no Aura, no Dust, no Hunters, no fancy weapons and no fancy fighting. We sit back, bring out the heavy equipment, and hit everything with big bombs from far away. The Rangers are going to set up a defensive position. We make our stand here. We shouldn't need to retreat, but if it comes to that, we'll pull out in vehicles and our aerial assets will cover us as we pull back."

"So what do we do?" Coco asked from behind her supervisor.

"Hit 'em with everything we've got," Hale told her. A boom echoed through the forest. "Sounds like the fighters are thinning them out a bit for us."

"Fighters?"

"CF-18s, probably dropping laser-guided bombs. I don't think they have cluster munitions." He paused, realizing what he'd just said. "I guess that probably doesn't mean anything to you, does it?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

A trio of Apache gunships zipped forward over their heads. A gray-haired girl pointed up at the sky and asked, "What are those things?"

Small explosions dotted the forest ahead of them. "Gunships."

"No, but why do they-"

"Now's not the time," Qrow snapped at her.

"Later," Hale said diplomatically. "There's a lot about Earth that would surprise you."

"Be advised, we have an AC-130 inbound to assist. Callsign Ghostrider."

"Copy that." He turned to Qrow. "I know it's not your style, but please, stay back away from the treeline. You're about to see some serious shit."

"I don't know, I've seen a lot," the veteran Huntsman answered. "But in the interest of diplomacy, I guess I'll admit curiosity about what your world can pull off."

Hale nodded and stepped back, assessing the tactical situation. The terrain wasn't bad, but it could have been better. They were on a moderate rise, sloping upwards away from a small flat area around the portal with a forest behind them. The other side of the portal was clear for a few dozen meters before turning to loose forest, though the shimmering portal obstructed their view somewhat. Because the portal was long, it was possible they could get flanked, though they would have plenty of advance warning.

He stood at the edge of the hill. The Remnans were in front, readying their weapons. The Rangers had mostly dismounted, setting up crew-served machine guns and grenade launchers to augment the weapons mounted on their vehicles. They were halfway up the hill, able to fire over the hunters below. A few of them sported AT4 anti-tank rockets and automatic grenade launchers.

The first beast that emerged from the treeline was shredded by concentrated fire from a dozen Hunters and a crew-served machine gun. The next few, a mix of Beowolves and Ursa, went down almost as quickly. Small explosions dotted the grounds as the Rangers (and Nora) pelted the incoming monsters with grenades.

"Don't get cocky," Qrow warned, sidling up beside Hale with his sword at the ready. "This is just the beginning."

A howl, unnatural and uncanny, echoed through the valley. The forest appeared to darken, but through the blur of the portal, the shapes of advancing Grimm began to emerge. The Remnans readied their weapons, shifting their battle stances. The Terrans opened fire with everything they had.

The first few Grimm to emerge from the treeline didn't make it more that a dozen metres before falling to concentrated fire. As soon as they started to gather, the Hunters dashed forward. Gleaming blades carved through jet black limbs and glowing bullets tore through bone plates. To the fighters, it was an elegant if deadly dance of combat. To the onlookers, it was a chaotic furball of bright explosions and colourful shapes too fast to follow.

It was an impressive show. But it was the last thing the Terran defenders wanted.

"Fuck! They're right where we need to be shooting!" an irate Corporal shouted from his position atop a Humvee. Nevertheless, when a single Ursa slipped through the Remnan group, he slewed his M2 machine gun over and took it down with a second of gunfire.

"Those fuckers are still coming!" Hale observed to nobody in particular.

"It's what they do," Rose told him, dropping down beside him. She was now carrying an M102 sniper rifle, which she fired offhand at what looked like a giant snake. "I think. I think my guess is pretty good."

Qrow quickly realized the awkward position they were in. He ducked under the clumsy swipe of an Ursa, decapitated it with his blade, and motioned to Taiyang before leaping back. He took down another of the beasts as he moved back. Seeing Coco a few metres away, he motioned back. "Pull back, give them some space. We've got to let them feel like they're doing something."

The Hunters allowed themselves to be pushed back, forming a wall of blades and bullets that slowly shifted backward. They stepped back across the threshold of the portal, quickly skipping through the potentially disorienting zone.

"They've got it." Hale shouted over the din at the Rangers, "Mortars?"

"Mortars!" Colonel Cobb shouted back. "Take cover! Mortar fire inbound!"

Muffled booms echoed from behind them. Seconds later, small black shapes began falling from the sky in front of them. Small explosions dotted the forest ahead of them.

Taiyang couldn't resist. "That was unimpressive."

They didn't have much time to dwell. The sharp-eyed Ruby Rose pointed upward. "Nevermore!"

A huge black shape zipped toward them, massive black wings flapping against the air. They started to aim skyward when a pair of missiles streaked out of the blue sky and slammed into the creature, blowing its wings off. Another hit a second later, and a fourth a few after that, shredding the black beast. A pair of fighter jets screamed past behind the missiles, breaking the sound barrier with a loud crack as they climbed away.

He admitted, "Better."

"Ghostrider one-one, on station and ready to provide support," a female voice buzzed over Hale's radio. "How copy, over?"

"Ghostrider, clear to engage," Hale shouted in reply. He shifted his grip on his rifle and flipped up the sights for its underbarrel grenade launcher. Seeing a lone Beowolf bounding toward them, he took aim and fired. Before the round could hit, a red blur appeared from nowhere and beheaded the beast. His carefully aimed round continued on its path, transitioned through the portal, and exploded against a tree.

A burst of explosive shells carved a line through the Grimm and the ground beneath them just behind the portal. A peculiarity of the supersonic rounds was that the explosions on the ground were often heard before the telltale buzzing of the 25mm rotary cannon firing. A larger blast from the large 105mm howitzer carved a new clearing in the red forest, taking the Grimm in it with it. Automatic cannon fire raked up and down the treeline, turning it into a mashed up mess of destroyed tree and dead Grimm. A few stragglers made it through the aerial assault and were easily dispatched by the ground teams.

It stopped as soon as it started. "Ghostrider, we, uh, we don't see any more hostiles from up here. Confirm area clear, ground team."

"Looks clear, Ghostrider," Hale replied. He shouted to Qrow, "Is that it?"

"Yeah. Grimm like to come in waves," the veteran huntsman told him. "They'll be back, but not yet."

"How soon?"

"Maybe a few hours. More likely, tomorrow. It's always hard to say with the Grimm."

"Not going to lie, sir, that was pretty impressive. First time I've seen Remnans up close," the Ranger Colonel told him. He turned to Hale. "Colonel Hale, you can get your plans on track again. We can hold here until our heavy equipment arrives."

"Heavy equipment?" Qrow asked.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "We're a light infantry battalion. We've got an armored battlegroup and an expeditionary unit on their way as we speak."

"Sir, I think it would be beneficial to get first contact back on track," Hale reminded him. "What were your plans for that?"

"Meet your guys- we did that. Then we got sidetracked, but we were going to call for pickup and head back to Beacon." Qrow paused. "But I think we're overdue enough that the Bullheads will have returned, and I can't get signal from here."

"That's no problem, sir. We have open communications with Remnant, and we can provide air transport to Beacon if you require it. If you come with us, we have a forward operating base set up where we can make more detailed arrangements."

He considered that for a moment. There was definitely some risk to taking Terran transport, but they could talk to Ozpin and go from there. And it would give him an opportunity to inspect their technology- and possibly their society, depending on where the base was- more closely. "Yeah, that'll work."

"Colonel, we're going to head back to the FOB with the VIPs," Hale told his Ranger counterpart.

"Copy that." He turned to Qrow. "Thanks for the assist, sir. Welcome to Earth."

* * *

"Welcome to Chilliwack," Colonel Hale announced as they entered the town. A pair of police cruisers pulled out into the road in front of them, clearing the way with sirens blaring. "This is a small town, but it has the closest airport to the portal site, so we've set up our base here."

"Looks like the outskirts of Vale," Taiyang commented from behind him. He asked his daughters, "You lived here?"

"Actually, over there," Yang replied, pointing west. "The big city, Vancouver, is that way. By the ocean."

"You didn't get in trouble with the cops here, did you?"

"No, dad."

"Good girl."

The convoy slowed to a stop as it approached the airport terminal, a small building partially obscured by trees, vehicles, and an armed cordon of military and police personnel. Qrow pointed to a large, heavy vehicle with a machine gun in a turret on top. "I take it this kind of security is not normal for airports?"

"That's correct," Hale answered honestly. "We're not taking any chances. There are elements on our world that would not like to see a peaceful first contact."

"Can't say I blame you." The vehicle pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop.

"Ambassador Dawson will be waiting inside," Hale told the huntsman, motioning to the door. He followed the Remnan contingent inside. With over two dozen extra people, it was a tight squeeze inside the small terminal.

A man in a grey suit stepped forward toward the group. "Good afternoon. I'm Erick Dawson. Technically, I'm not allowed to call myself an ambassador, but that's basically what I am. On behalf of the nations of Earth, welcome to our world." He outstretched his hand.

 _I already heard the spiel, but I guess I have to play diplomat, too._ Qrow took the man's hand and grasped it. Thankfully, the handshake seemed to be the same on Earth. "Qrow Branwen. This is Taiyang Xiao Long. The two teams of young hunters are students from Beacon Academy. We represent the Academy, the Kingdom of Vale, and the World of Remnant. I am honoured to accept your welcome on behalf of the people of Remnant."

"And I yours. We've been in communication with Headmaster Ozpin on Remnant," the ambassador said, leading the group into the terminal. "It's our understanding that he wants you to return to Remnant with representatives from Earth as soon as possible."

"That's the plan. We could bring in Bullheads, but if you have transport that's already here, that may be more convenient for all of us," Qrow proposed. "It's about a hundred miles- can you do that?"

"Yes, it can be arranged," Dawson answered.

"Okay. I _will_ have to clear that with Ozpin first. Colonel Hale told me that you have a line of communication with Beacon. Would you mind if I use that."

"Yes, we've been in contact," he replied. He motioned to a civilian standing behind a laptop and a pile of electronic equipment. "Harold Iverson will get you set up. Iverson?"

"Yeah, I'll get it set up," the man replied, looking up from the laptop. "Boyd, up and running."

"On it," a technician replied.

"And you are?" Qrow asked, approaching the man.

"I'm the one who's been talking to Ozpin- well, mostly," he answered.

"Diplomat?"

"No."

 _Probably some kind of intelligence, if it's anything like Remnant. But then again, he could be a_ _senior_ _communications technician._ Qrow asked him, "What's this thing?"

"It's a laptop- a portable computer," Iverson answered. He was pretty sure the huntsman had already figured it out. They weren't that dissimilar to the computing devices on Remnant, maybe a little more crude in appearance. He handed Qrow a microphone connected to the computer. "Keep in mind, this is an open channel. We are using a directional transmitter but anyone sitting between us and Beacon- or behind Beacon, for that matter- is going to hear what you're saying."

"Thanks." _Definitely intelligence._

"Professor Ozpin, it's Qrow calling from the Earth base. Are you there?" Qrow asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Qrow." The familiar voice was slightly staticy, but easily recognizable. "I assume you have made peaceful contact?"

"We have made peaceful contact." They had codes, but they were mostly for a first contact gone wrong. Though they were both suspicious and did not trust the Terrans completely, so far things had gone about as smooth as could be expected. "We had a run-in with the Grimm, but we fought them off. The Terrans have assured me that they can take care of things from here on in. The Terrans were ready to meet us. They brought a military contingent and now I'm back at their forward operating base ten metres away from their ambassador. As far as I can tell, everything they brought up in the transmission is true."

"Anything else?"

"We found some roses on the way back. Apparently they grow here, too." He almost laughed at the code phrase. When they'd planned it, he had no idea it would be so literal. "A lot of the plants, actually. I bet there's some horticulturalist who'd go nuts over it."

"Very well. Some of James' men wish to meet us halfway, as long as the Terrans have no objections," Ozpin replied. He added after some hesitation, "Remember, you are making history. Our entire world will be watching, and doubtlessly Earth as well. Be careful. Make a positive impression."

"Already way ahead of you, old man," Qrow replied. "See you soon."

* * *

"What the hell is this thing?" Qrow asked as the machine- a _helicopter_ , he'd been told- trundled toward Remnant. It wasn't noisier or more uncomfortable than a Bullhead, just different. He was used to the harsh screech of their tiltjets, but this flying machine made an odd whapping sound instead. He was used to the turbulence of an airship, but the violent bouncing of the helicopter less so.

The pilot replied from the cockpit, "This is a UH-60 Black Hawk, sir. A twin-engined, medium-lift, multirole utility helicopter."

"Helicopters are very common on Earth," Dawson elaborated. "They're not our primary means of air transport, but we use them for short to medium distance flights in remote locations. Our main means of air transportation is the airplane. Those are typically bigger and faster, but need a long runway to take off. A helicopter can go straight up and come back straight down."

"You don't use tiltjets or airships?" Qrow asked.

"It's because they don't have Dust, Uncle Qrow," Ruby answered. "They can't get as much thrust out of their fuel, and helicopters and airplanes are more efficient."

"I guess that makes sense." Qrow pointed out the window at another flying machine, similarly configured to the Black Hawk but with a much smaller cockpit and a lot more weapons. "What's that?"

"AH-64 Apache attack helicopter. That's the armed escort we talked about," Hale told him.

"It looks like a toy."

"Laugh all you want, you dusty old bastard," Rose told him. "We used a few of those to whack Cinder and her cronies."

Hale glared at the cop.

"What? They were going to find out eventually."

"Cinder? Cinder Fall?" Qrow asked.

"She Public Enemy Number One on Remnant or something?"

Qrow glared at her. _Later, Rose._

"We have had more experience with your world than you might think," Dawson said diplomatically before the tension could build.

"More experience?" Taiyang asked.

"It's a pretty strange story, actually," his daughter told him.

"Perhaps it is best that we go through this at our destination," the ambassador said awkwardly. Before he could continue, a loud ringing sound cut him off.

Rose instinctively went for her pants pocket, searching for her phone. Not only was it not ringing, it was off. She joked, "Well, it's not my phone."

Qrow pulled his Scroll out and answered the call, silencing the noise.

"We use Scrolls for this sort of thing," Taiyang told the surprised Terrans.

"Our escort will be showing up shortly," Qrow shouted to the pilots, putting away the device. "They want us to follow them in."

"Yes, sir, I see them now," the pilot shouted back. A pair of angular, almost scorpion-like aircraft swooped down in front of them. Large engines on the ends of the wings rotated as they manoeuvred, signifying them as tiltjets. He recognized the design as the Atlesian Dropship he'd been briefed on, and noted that it looked even more awkward in real life than it did in the CGI images.

"Look, that's Beacon!" Ruby shouted, pointing out the window. Ahead of the dropships, the tall spires of the academy slowly rose into view.

"Are we clear for landing, Qrow?" the pilot asked.

"Yeah, you're clear," he replied, stepping forward into the cockpit. He pointed out a set of landing pads. "Over there."

"Bringing us down." The pilot brought the helicopter into a hover and eased back on the collective, reducing the lift produced by the whirling blades and allowing gravity to pull the machine toward the ground. They touched down with a slight bump.

"You can shut it down, nobody's going to use these pads," Qrow told him.

"Yes, sir." He reached up and shut off the engines. The steady whine of the engines faded to silence, and the whapping of the blades slowed to nothing. However, he left the APU running for the moment. If they needed to, he could restart the engines and take off in under a minute.

"Welcome to Remnant?" Colonel Hale asked.

"Welcome to Remnant," Taiyang replied. He reached forward to open the door, but stopped himself. "Uh, maybe you should do it."

He obliged, turning the release handle and pulling the sliding door open. It was very similar to how a Bullhead's side door worked. "After you, sir."

A stern, middle-aged woman with long blonde hair strode toward them. She raised her voice over the still-landing helicopters. "Welcome to Remnant. I'm Glynda Goodwitch... oh my." Her eyes traced between Ruby and her mother as they stepped out of the machine.

"Roses, literally," Qrow interrupted, jumping down from the helicopter with his nieces in tow. "These are the Remnans living on Earth. Summer Rose and our missing teams. The rest are, uh, behind us."

Glynda's face remained carefully controlled, though her mind was working a mile a minute. "Are these the only Remnans on Earth?"

"To the best of our knowledge, yes," a man in a grey suit, carrying a leather briefcase, told them. "I'm Erick Dawson. I represent Earth. This is Colonel Hale, military leader of the contact team. Unfortunately, most of our diplomatic contingent is still en route. You must understand that the country on the other side of the portal is very large geographically, and that many of its allies spread around the globe have become involved. The actions of Headmaster Ozpin have expedited our schedule more than we expected."

"Team CFVY, Team AAZR, with me please!" a quick, green-haired man shouted animatedly. He zipped in beside them at an almost impossible speed, waving excitedly before zipping away again. "Come, come, we have a lot to talk about!"

"The Headmaster believed it was necessary," Glynda explained after the interruption. She turned on her heel and strode toward the Beacon tower. "This way, please."

* * *

"Professor Ozpin will see you when you are ready," Glynda announced, motioning the group out of the elevator.

They lined up against the wall of the office, the two veteran huntsmen flanking the Terrans with the rest of the Remnans shuffling awkwardly down. The office was large and imposing, with a high ceiling and ornate desk and chairs on the opposite side. A collection of gears extended from the ceiling, spinning and quietly clacking. The dark-suited, grey-haired man in the chair turned and rose.

"Ambassador Dawson, Colonel Hale," Ozpin summoned. He motioned to the chairs on the other side of his desk. "Please, sit down. I am Professor Ozpin. The Council will be sending a full delegation, but in the meantime, I have been appointed temporary representative. I do apologize for rushing the contact process. It was necessary to preempt potential enemies that may not wish to see a peaceful first contact."

The two stepped forward and sat down across from Ozpin. Taiyang and Qrow joined them to their left-hand side. Dawson began, "You need not apologize, Professor. There are threats to the process on Earth as well, and we have had to take precautions of our own."

He nodded. "First, I would like to thank you for bringing our teams home safe. It is a gesture we very much appreciate. You did not have to do so."

"They lived peaceful lives among us for a number of years. We would not be civilized if we did not allow them to return at some point, and we believed that doing so immediately would help build goodwill between our two worlds."

Ozpin turned to the teams before his eyes locked with those of Rose. "We believed you were dead. We have much to talk about."

She waved lamely. "I've been getting that a lot lately. Been a long time. I'll explain everything later."

"Professor, am I safe in assuming you trust everyone in this room?" the ambassador explained. He asked, "What I am about to say is information your government may wish to consider privileged for at least some time. It will eventually become general knowledge- our world already knows- but we want to give advance warning so to speak."

"I cannot guarantee that we will choose to not disseminate the information you provide, but yes. If we choose not to, whatever you state will not go beyond the walls of this room," the Headmaster replied.

"Of course. We know a lot about your world, more than we let on in the initial transmission," Dawson admitted.

"I had a certain suspicion, yes," Ozpin acknowledged.

"You probably believe we are aware of your world because of the visitors from your own. That is true, to an extent, but the whole truth is far stranger. Not impossible, but simply highly improbable," Dawson told him. It was perhaps the most important thing he had to say, and the most difficult.

Ozpin tented his fingers. "Go on."


	25. Across Distant Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I expected this chapter to be shorter than the previous one, but it kind of ballooned. The pacing is kind of off, and I feel there's too much talking in it. In other words, there was a lot more to get through than I thought.

"So, let's make sure we understand each other correctly," Ozpin echoed slowly, digesting the information in his head. "There exists a work of fiction on your world which depicts Beacon Academy, Vale, and the world of Remnant?"

Dawson nodded. "Yes, sir, that is correct."

Qrow was more blunt. "I don't believe it. That's impossible."

"No, sir, just very, very unlikely," Colonel Hale responded. "There's a theory on Earth that anything that can and will be exists in some universe out there as an alternate reality. Somehow, our reality- where you all exist as fiction-"

"Or, perhaps, it was destined," Ozpin mused. He turned to the Remnans who had been living on Earth. "Is this true?"

He received a chorus of affirmative replies.

"Hmm, if you have this RWBY show on your world," Taiyang mentioned. His voice was controlled, but carried an edge to it. "Does that mean we're all just slaves to whatever reality you write?"

"Not at all, as far as we can tell," Dawson assured him. "The fact that we are here discussing it suggests that it's not the case. There have been major differences between the series and reality even before the portals opened. For what it's worth, we regard it as nothing but a coincidence."

"It seems that you have us at a disadvantage," Ozpin said. "You know of our world from these various sources, but we know precious little of yours. All we know- or think we know- is from legend."

"I'll try to answer as much as I can, and I'm sure our guests have much to say about our world. And there is a gift from our world to yours," Dawson said. He opened his briefcase and removed a small book, which he passed to Ozpin.

"What's this?" the Headmaster asked, turning the book over in his hand.

"An introduction to Earth, sir. Our history, our culture, our technology, our world. I'm going to be completely honest, it's probably going to leave you with a lot of questions. It's been very carefully constructed, but it'll still leave you with questions. Hopefully you'll have an idea of what to ask."

"Very interesting. The rest of our diplomatic delegation will be here shortly, and as I have been informed, so will your own. In the mean time, we have prepared accommodations. Glynda will show you to them," Ozpin offered. "I'm sure you are very tired from the events of the day."

"Thank you, Professor," Dawson replied. "In fact, thank you for everything you have done to make this meeting as smooth as it has been."

He smiled thinly. "It is a time of peace. I am only doing my duty to protect that peace."

* * *

Thirty thousand feet above the American heartland, the senior leadership of the United States government gathered aboard the National Airborne Operations Center. A modified 747 airliner, it was designed to ensure continuity of government in the event of nuclear attack.

Aboard was the President and key parts of his Cabinet, as well as important military leaders including the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Notably absent was the Vice President, who had been evacuated to a bunker in Pennsylvania along with the Deputy Secretary of Defense. A pair of F-15C Eagle interceptors escorted the large jet.

From his seat in the conference room near the front of the plane, the President asked his staff, "So, we've made contact. What's the verdict?"

"Successful," the Secretary of State replied immediately. "Right now it's just Dawson and the military contact team on Remnant, but they've sent the all clear signal. Our joint diplomatic delegation- with the Canadians, the Brits, and the other Gemstone countries- is on their way to the portal as we speak. According to Ozpin, Remnant is getting their own on scene shortly."

"Can we trust him?" SecDef asked.

"Our guests have vouched for him," the National Security Advisor said. "No, of course we can't trust him completely. But I think it's fair to assume he has no vested interest in destroying Terran-Remnan relations, especially given his previous actions."

"And what about the portal? Is it secure?" the President asked.

"It's safe for the moment and we almost have enough forces on scene to be comfortable," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs replied. "British Army Training Unit Suffield is on site, the Canadians are bringing up their reserves, and the Marines are landing now."

"I think if things keep going like this, we'll come out of it okay," the Secretary of State opined.

"I think you're right, John," the President acknowledged. "It's going to get pretty damn complicated, but we've avoided a shooting war, and that's-"

A frantic voice interrupted, "Sir, you have to see this!"

* * *

Inside Ozpin's office, his inner circle gathered. Qrow, his trusted agent and right-hand man, was there, as was Glynda Goodwitch. Despite his earlier actions, Ironwood, too, was there.

The circle had once been much bigger.

"The Earthers are not what we expected," Ozpin stated simply.

"No, they aren't," Qrow concurred. "They say they don't have Dust and that they don't have Aura, which makes sense. When the Queen's scientists probed the targets, they didn't find any. We were just completely wrong about how much that would cripple them. Or, you know, wouldn't."

"I expected that we would have to protect Earth against ourselves," Ozpin stated, shooting Ironwood a pointed glare. "Now I worry that the opposite is true."

"They're still way behind us technologically," Qrow pointed out.

"They _appear_ behind us technologically," Glynda corrected. "We've been careful about what we're showing them. It makes sense that they would do the same."

"You don't really believe they have doomsday devices, do you?" Qrow asked.

"It's unlikely, but anything is possible," she acknowledged.

"It's a good thing you didn't invade them," Qrow shot at the General, taking a swig from his flask. "Why are you even here? Which side are you playing now?"

"Qrow," Glynda warned.

He glared at her. "What? Someone's gotta ask the important questions."

"I'm playing the side that will keep the peace and ensure our survival," Ironwood said uncomfortably. "We work to keep everyone safe. I saw an opportunity. You must understand the appeal of the Queen's plan. Unfortunately, she was wrong about what was on the other side."

"She was also wrong about how she went about it, or do you consider killing a bunch of bystanders _necessary_?"

"Now is not the time," Ozpin interrupted quietly but powerfully. "We have all experienced troubling, trying events. We must continue despite them."

"Fine." Qrow reminded them, "We know who opened that portal. Why are we messing around?"

"The Queen still holds a lot of sway in Atlas," the General answered. "Do you have any idea what exposing her could do? We could have a civil war on our hands. Atlas is not Vale and there are a lot of people who will sympathize with her."

Ozpin nodded gravely. He turned to his trusted associate. "Qrow, you've been closer to the Queen than anyone else. How likely do you think it is that she'll open more portals?"

"She's still got six sites and enough Spectral Dust to use them," Qrow answered. "I think she'll pause now that she knows about Earth, but might try again once she learns about all the countries and how some aren't as well defended as others. She knows time is running out, that someone is on to her. I might even be burned. Either she'll start opening portals soon or she won't open any at all."

"How much do we know about the targets?" Ironwood asked.

"The other primary target is another big city near a coast, very similar to Vancouver. The secondary targets are also near cities, but I don't know much about those. Actually, now that I think about it, we figured they were villages, not cities, but I think the scientists were basing that on Aura measurements mostly. There's also a desert, a forest, and a jungle- her so-called wilderness targets. Two coastal and three oceanic targets, but she figured those were next to useless." He turned to Ozpin. "There's a map in that book, isn't there?"

Glynda shook her head. "It won't help. Nobody could find a location on Remnant from those descriptions, and we live here."

"I believe we have no option but to wait and see," Ozpin concluded. "There are too few of us to try anything else without knowing more."

"What about Summer?" Glynda asked. "She was one of our best. Should we bring her in again?"

"Was," Qrow reminded her. "She's definitely still there, but she's pretty messed up in the head. Can barely remember her own name, let alone anything we did. Whatever happened did a number on her."

Ozpin nodded. "I will talk to her. Most likely, she will need time to acclimatize again."

"So what do we do, Oz?" Qrow asked.

"We learn more," Ozpin replied. He held up the book Dawson had given him. "We have some light reading. We have nine of our own who have spent time on Earth. We must learn as much as we can before we take any action."

* * *

"Total portal count is now four confirmed plus one possible," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs reported to the President and his staff. "Confirmed just outside of DC, confirmed near Tokyo, confirmed in the Donbass region and one possible in Syria."

"Holy shit," the President breathed. "How do we know about these?"

The National Security Advisor replied vaguely, "Through our usual intelligence sources, sir."

He nodded. "Okay, show me."

A blurry picture of a portal much like the one in Vancouver appeared on the projection screen. The Secretary of Defense explained, "This is just outside of DC. The Army and National Guard have moved to surround the portal. We've got air patrols up and more standing by if we need it."

"We're reasonably confident we can defend the city against an invasion by Remnan forces or the Grimm," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs added.

"Okay. What's on the other side?"

"Intercepted transmissions suggest that there may be Atlesian forces across the portal, but we have no confirmation at this time," the Chairman replied. "We have a U-2 en route to penetrate the portal and gather intelligence should you authorize it."

The President nodded. "Do it."

"Yes, sir."

The National Security Advisor interrupted, "Mister President, I should mention that these portals fit the pattern we expected."

"Pattern?" SecState asked.

"Yes, sir. We were expecting to see the portals match the initial emergence if more were to open up. It looks like our guess was correct," the National Security Advisor explained. "I don't entirely understand the science behind it, but it has something to do with weak points between our realities. I should also stress that this is very much cutting-edge science that we could be wrong about."

"We did pre-position some assets based on that assumption, though not so many that it would cripple our ability to respond otherwise," the Chairman added. "It's a good thing it panned out."

"No shit. Do we have any idea who or what is opening these things?" the President asked.

SecState shook his head. "Our new friends in Vale are either playing dumb or don't know. Given their scattered response, I'd be more inclined to believe the latter."

"It's still possible, even likely, that a Remnan actor is behind this," the National Security Advisor mentioned. "JNPR's testimony implied that someone on Remnant was working on a project that could very well have been interdimensional portals. But we have no reason to believe- or disbelieve- that any specific party is responsible at this time."

"That's just great."

"Mister President, the Washington, DC portal is frighteningly close to home, but it's well secured. The Japanese can handle their own portal and we still need to get eyes on the Syria one if it exists," the Secretary of Defense mentioned. "Our main concern should be the Donbass portal."

"Why that one?" the President asked.

SecDef motioned toward the Chairman. "Martin?"

"Yes, sir. This was taken over Donetsk only minutes ago." He brought up a photograph on the projection screen, circling a section of it with a laser pointer. "These are _Russian_ tanks. They're not even bothering with the maskirovka this time. As far as they're concerned, this is a threat big enough that they can roll in and to hell with the consequences."

"I can't say I blame them. That's one hell of a threat and the only thing standing between it and civilizations is a failed state and a bunch of terrorists. But I take it our European friends are not happy."

"That's an understatement. The Brits, French, and Germans have condemned it and ordered a heightened state of readiness, but they were going to do that anyway. It's the Poles and the Baltic states that are going apeshit. They're going to support the Ukrainians and they're screaming at everyone else to join them." The Secretary of Defense paused. "Sir, they're going in whether we want them or not."

"What about the Ukrainians? What do _they_ actually want?"

"They're scared shitless, both by the portal and by the Russians on their territory," the Secretary of State stated. "They want NATO aid and they want it now. They're not in NATO, but they're allied with the Poles and the Lithuanians, who could drag us into it."

"Jesus Christ."

"Come on, let's get real. Nobody's starting World War Three over Russia's backwards little brother," the Secretary of Homeland Security objected.

"No, but someone else might for us," SecState replied. "The Russians are not going to like NATO forces in Ukraine, and it's not going to take much to start a shooting war. Hell, whatever's on the other side of that portal might do it for us."

"Sir, I'd like to mention that our advisors are already in the Ukraine," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs reminded them. "We could end up dragged into this whether we want to or not."

"So we're the peacemaker whether we can actually be the peacemaker or not?"

"I'm afraid we'll have to be," the President said. "The last thing we want is a shooting war in Europe. We can't not support our allies, and we can't just ignore the Russians."

"What if they ignore _us_?"

"This is a volatile situation and they know it." The President turned to his Secretary of State. "John, let's get on the line and figure out what they want and what they're willing to accept."

"Sir, we're getting a message from Moscow," a technician interrupted. "I think they're asking _us_."

* * *

"I wonder what they're going to ask us," Ruby mused, leading her team down the hallway toward the dormitories. The old walls of the stately institution felt like home after so long away from it, yet they felt oddly foreign at the same time. "Hey, I wonder what our room is like now."

"I dunno. I thought they would have cleared it out by now, so I'm just surprised they didn't do that," Yang told her sister.

"It was a mess when we left, so it's probably still a mess," Weiss suggested. "The bunk beds have probably fallen, though."

"Oh, come on, those were perfectly stable!" Ruby protested.

"No, they weren't," Blake objected quietly.

"They really-" Yang stopped, noticing something about her partner that she never used to consider normal. "Blake, do you realize you're not wearing your bow?"

"You know I haven't bothered in months. Everyone on Earth knows I'm a..." Her voice trailed off as she realized what she'd missed. "Oh, fuck."

"I don't think a lot of people saw us, so if you put it back on I don't think people will notice," Ruby offered.

Blake turned to Weiss, who offered a different opinion. "Sooner or later, they're going to find out anyway. They're going to find out about Earth, about the show, and about you."

"And about my past with the White Fang," the Faunus realized. "They're going to throw me in jail."

"Blake, we can deal with that later," Weiss told her. "Yes, there are a lot of people- a lot of people I know, actually- that are going to try to get you thrown in jail. But we have powerful friends, too."

"You can't keep running forever, Blake," Ruby reminded her. "Besides, I'm sure people will like you for who you are."

"Yeah, you're right. One thing at a time." She resumed her pace, the rest of her team following quickly behind. "Come on. Let's go check out our old room."

* * *

"What's the situation?" Major General Keating asked, stepping into the command post. He'd been appointed as the commander of the force defending the capital only an hour before, and he was arriving at the front for the very first time. "Do we have an invasion on our hands?"

The acting commander, an Army Colonel, informed him, "No, sir, they're holding on their side of the portal. We can hear sporadic gunfire but we have no reason to believe it's targeted at us."

"Do we have eyes on the other side?" Keating asked.

"To a very limited extent," the Colonel replied. "A U-2 just penetrated the portal and the Air Force has a pair of Raptors patrolling across the event horizon."

"I guess drones aren't really an option, are they?"

"Well, sir, I heard they were using small drones with line-of-sight control up in Vancouver, but we don't want to piss off the other side here. We do have a few ready if you decide otherwise, sir."

"No, that's fine. What are we looking at over there? What kind of force concentration?"

He motioned the General to a hastily drawn map. "Large capital airships here, here, and here. Airmobile forces that seem to be patrolling, providing ground support to their forces. Light infantry with some mech- that's literal walking mechs, not mechanized units- here, here, and here. This isn't completely accurate, sir, and it's out of date now."

"And the Grimm?"

The Colonel shrugged. "The Atlesians are destroying them on the other side of the portal before we can even see them."

"Atlesians?" On the way in, he had no idea what was on the other side, and was surprised the Colonel knew already.

"Based on intercepted transmissions and visual surveys, we guessed that the other end of the portal opened somewhere near Atlas. But we don't have to guess anymore, sir." He motioned a technician over. "Just before you got here, we received this transmission on the contact frequency. Have a listen, sir."

The technician produced a tape recorder and started it. "To the commander of the military forces on the other side of the portal. The commander of the military forces of Atlas wishes to meet for discussions. We wish for peace and recognize the potential danger of our forces operating close together with no coordination. This will be a meeting of military commanders, not a diplomatic mission. We intend for a small delegation of no more than a dozen troops to transit the portal by air and land in a location of your choosing. If this is acceptable, please respond."

"They want to meet us this badly?" the General asked.

"Yes, sir, as far as we can tell. Which, I'll admit, _is_ limited."

General Keating considered it for a moment. "I like this guy. He's smart. Inform the National Command Authority and tell the Atlesians we'll do it." He surveyed the map before picking up a spot. "They can land here. If they try anything, they'll have to contend with the Marines here and the National Guard units here. Get some aerial firepower if you can, too."

"Yes, sir." The Colonel turned to a Lieutenant beside a stack of communications equipment and relayed the general's decision. One message would be sent by satellite to the National Military Command Center in the Pentagon, the alternate NMCC in Raven Rock, USNORTHCOM headquarters at Cheyenne Mountain Complex, and the National Airborne Operations Center. The other would be sent across the portal to the source of the transmission.

The General stopped a Marine on his way out of the tent. "Lance Corporal, give me your sidearm."

As the confused Marine unstrapped the weapon and handed it over, the Colonel asked, "Sir, is that going to do you any good?"

"No, but they don't know that," the General answered. "Hell, they probably _expect_ generals to carry sidearms."

"Sir, this could be a trap," the Colonel pointed out.

"I know. Arrange transportation for myself and a few troops that you can spare," the General ordered. He turned to leave before thinking of something else. "FUBAR code word is _Stalingrad_. You hear that, no matter the context, you wipe the Atlesian delegation off the face of the Earth and take whatever actions necessary after."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

The current Earth delegation, consisting of Dawson, Colonel Hale, and a handful of technicians and assistants, occupied a conference room five floors up one of Beacon's iconic towers. Like the rest of the Academy, the architecture was more in line with the stately old institutions of years gone by rather than the newer, more sterile ones. A startlingly contemporary steel and glass table sat in the middle with sixteen seats arranged around it, though the room could have held three times that number. A single door led to a (no doubt guarded) hallway and a pair of sliding glass doors opened to an outdoor balcony.

"Yes, sir. I'll relay it as soon as possible." Dawson exhaled and handed the phone back to an Air Force comm tech.

The comm tech had set up a directional transmitter on the balcony, pointing toward the portal. It gave them secure two-way communications with Washington via a relay station near the event horizon. They'd asked permission from Ozpin and received it immediately, the headmaster recognizing the importance of communication. While the radio link was secure, the room was not, so they had to be careful about what was discussed.

"What was that?" Colonel Hale asked the official.

"New portals," Dawson told him. "One near Washington, DC, one near Donetsk, one in Japan and possibly another one in Syria."

"Jesus. I'd expect the good Headmaster to show up any-"

He was interrupted by the man in question entering through the single door. Ozpin was tense, but not angry, his movements quick and measured but not aggressive. He held out a Scroll toward the ambassador, with images showing portals very similar to the Vale one. "These are portals that have opened near Atlas, Mistral, and Vacuo. Were you aware of these?"

"Yes, sir, but only as of five minutes ago," Colonel Hale answered honestly. "These came to us as a complete surprise."

"For what it's worth, I do not believe you are responsible for these," Ozpin replied. "But understand that this will seem very suspicious to many people on our world. We do not know what is creating these, and your assurances may fall on deaf ears."

"The same is true on Earth, Headmaster," Dawson reminded him.

"I know," Ozpin acknowledged. "I believe the matter of who created the portals will be a centerpoint of the discussions. You are no doubt very interested in this, as are we."

"That's definitely true, sir." He switched topics. "Do you have any idea when the Remnan delegations will arrive? Our own are several hours out."

"I'm afraid I still don't know," Ozpin replied. "You mentioned your world has nearly two hundred countries. They won't all be represented, will they?"

"Not individually, no," Dawson admitted. "There will be individual representatives from Canada, the United States, and the United Kingdom. Possibly Russia and possibly China as well. There will also be a representative from the European Union and at least one from the United Nations. That's subject to change, of course."

"Politics must be very complex on your world," Ozpin remarked.

"That's an understatement, Headmaster."

Ozpin nodded. "Indeed. I will let you know as soon as I hear from our delegates."

* * *

General Keating stood in the middle of a grassy depression beside a pair of Humvees and a dozen National Guardsmen. A group of Marines, supported by M1A1 tanks, surrounded the depression. An AH-1Z Viper attack helicopter circled overhead, supported by a pair of F-16 fighters watching from above.

A strange aircraft emerged from the event horizon of the portal, arcing toward their position. It was vaguely scorpion-shaped, with a long segmented tail boom and long straight wings with engines mounted at the end. They recognized it as an Atlesian dropship, but this was the first time any of them had seen one in person. It appeared far more elegant in motion than it did in the pictures they'd seen.

"Wave," General Keating told his subordinates, doing the same himself.

The aircraft slowed to a hover, turning its powerful engines downward. The noise was overpowering and the men on the ground could feel the hot, fast-moving exhaust from where they stood twenty feed away. The aircraft descended slowly, landing gear unfolding just before it hit the ground. The engines shut down and a ramp extended from its rear.

Seven men and women stepped out of the machine. Six of them were wearing the silver-grey armour of Atlesian soldiers and carried large assault rifles. The seventh was a tall woman in the grey and white uniform of an Atlesian general. Her uniform was very similar to the one worn by General Ironwood, but not identical. She wore black gloves, her boots were a different taller design, and she only had one gold square on each lapel. Her eyes flicked to the Earth soldiers, the turrets on their vehicles, and the tough-looking vehicles on the edge of the depression.

"Major General Jeffrey Keating, United States Army," the Terran general introduced, stepping toward the woman and saluting.

She briskly returned the salute. "General Lili Rook, Atlas."

Keating dropped the salute. "Welcome to Earth, General Rook."

"Thank you, General Keating," Rook replied. "First, I should mention that I am not the official diplomatic delegation. They are in Vale, along with representatives from the other Kingdoms. Strictly speaking, I should not even be here on Earth."

"Are you doing this without the knowledge of your government?" Keating asked.

"That's a complicated situation for an Atlesian commander," she dodged. "But if you can keep this meeting discreet, I would appreciate that."

"I think I understand what you're saying, but I can't offer any guarantees."

"That's all I can ask for."

"You have an important reason to come here." It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes, General, it is," she replied. "Atlas does not want a war, especially not with an enemy we know nothing about. I know firsthand how dangerous it can be to have two armies operating in close proximity with no coordination, and that's with ones we've worked with before. I have no knowledge of your tactics, your equipment, your capabilities. A mistake could turn into a battle and then a war. We need to get a few things straight before that happens."

* * *

"Well, they don't want us to get involved in the Ukraine at all," SecState reported, reading the printout again. "They're saying they want us to pull out, get the Poles to pull out, essentially leave Ukraine to them. Not just the east, but the whole country."

"Yeah, give them a nice open road all the way to the Polish border," the Secretary of the Treasury said sarcastically.

"Can we even legally do that?" the President asked.

The Secretary of Defense responded, "Strictly speaking, sir, if we pull out of Ukraine and as long as the Russians don't keep pushing into Poland or Lithuania, they could have one hell of a shooting war and we wouldn't have to get involved in it. They could argue the semantics of Article 5, but we could argue back and tie it up until this is over at the very least."

"If we do that, our European allies will fucking crucify us," the Secretary of State argued. "We may be within our obligations by the letter but we sure as hell won't be on principle. It could tear apart NATO!"

"I'm saying it can be done, not it should be done," SecDef defended.

The President shook his head. "We have to support our allies. We have commitments. But those commitments are _not_ fighting over a country that isn't even in our alliance. Give me an out."

"Sir, the Russians know they're not going to get what they want," SecState clarified. "They know they have to talk to us or risk a war, and even the Russkies aren't that crazy. But they have leverage and if they can get some concessions out of this they'll do it."

The President mulled it over for a moment. "Tell the Russians no, no way. We have commitments and we have to support our allies. But we're willing to work with them to come up with a solution that will satisfy all parties. Drop the hint that we're willing to make concessions because of the extreme emergency of the situation."

"Okay." The Secretary of State drafted a reply, and they waited in tense silence for the response from the Russians. The red phone seen so often in fiction did not actually exist. In fact, the Moscow-Washington hotline used secure email through a dedicated network link from the NMCC in Washington to the Kremlin in Moscow. It was supported by a backup satellite fax system, which was what they were using aboard the NAOC.

As soon as the response came, a technician handed it to the President. He read it silently, scoffed, and handed it to the Secretary of State.

"They're basically saying the same thing, just a different way. Turn the Ukraine into a neutral zone, which means turn it into a Russian zone," he said.

"Do we really care that much about the Ukraine?" SecTreas asked.

"No, but the Poles apparently do, and they're already dragging NATO into it," SecDef said. "It's dubious whether they really care about the Ukraine either, but they do care about having Russian tanks on their border."

"Jesus Christ, we've got a fucking portal to another world and we have no idea what's on the other side and we're arguing about the goddamn Ukraine," the National Security Advisor grumbled. "Sorry, sir."

"It's called realpolitik," SecState said ruefully. "How are the portals doing, by the way?"

"The delegation in Vale is still waiting at Beacon," she replied. "The Japanese have their portal surrounded and the country's scared, but nothing has happened yet. They've killed some Grimm, but no other contact yet. You already know about Washington and I don't know any more about the potential Syria portal than you do." After a pause, she asked, "Speaking of Vale, did we offer the Russians a spot at the table?"

"Yeah, we offered that right away. They took it as a given," SecState told her.

"We have to give them something," the President mused. "They don't want a war any more than we do. We consider the areas the Russians are occupying to be part of the Ukraine, and the Russians breaching their sovereignty. They don't look at it that way. What if we can get the Ukrainians to pull out of the East and rescind their claims on Crimea? There's a good chance that's what they really want out of this."

"You think the Ukrainians will go for it?" SecDef asked. "You're asking them to give up part of their country, for Christ's sake."

"A part of their country they haven't controlled in months and now probably won't ever get back," SecState reminded him. "If they want American tanks between Russia and Kyiv this badly, yes. It's give up the eastern regions or give up the whole country and they know it."

The President nodded. "Let's table it. While we're at it, tell them they can draw their line on either side of the portal site. That might be what they're really after, and there's no way we're going to get it anyway."

"And they Ukrainians?" SecState asked.

"Better give them a heads-up. Spin it like we're the good guys."

"Always, sir."

"Nobody's going to be happy with this, Mister President," the National Security Advisor mentioned.

"No shit." The President leaned back in his chair. "God, I hope this works. Now give me an update on the situation back in Washington."

"We're now in communication with the Atlesian forces," the Secretary of Defense answered. He brought up a portrait on the projection screen of a woman with white and black striped hair, an angular face, and steel grey eyes. "This is General Lili Rook. She's the one who initiated contact, and claimed to do so of her own accord."

"Why?" the President asked.

"Her stated reason is to avoid an accident that could result in a war," he replied. "To that end, she's agreed to provide communications equipment to our forces and to try to avoid stepping on our toes."

"Smart." It was a nice olive branch, the President reflected, but could be a trap. "What are the Atlesians up to on their side of the portal?"

"We're very close to their city. They've got airships, hunters, soldiers, and mechs sitting between the city and the portal, and they're killing most of the Grimm before they can get anywhere close," the Secretary answered. "We're counting at least seven capital ships as well as hundreds of armed transports. We'd need nuclear weapons to stop them."

"So is the situation stable?"

"For the moment, yes, sir. The Atlesians are a significantly greater threat than the Grimm," he answered. "Sir, it's my recommendation that we station a B-2 bomber with strategic weapons on watch nearby. Just in case."

The President thought about it for a moment before asking the Secretary of State, "What will the Atlesians think?"

The Secretary of State turned to the Secretary of Defense. "It'll be on our side of the portal, right?"

"That's right."

"They won't know about it, and if they do, they won't know what it is."

"The latter is not necessarily true, sir," the National Security Advisor interrupted. "Keep in mind that we've handed over nine people who have spent significant amounts of time on Earth. They may recognize it if they see it. With that being said, as long as it doesn't penetrate the portal, they won't see it."

"What's our reaction time if we don't?"

"Several hours, sir," SecDef replied. "Versus minutes if it's already in the air and patrolling. As an alternative, we could make that about an hour if we station a B-2 at a closer airbase."

The President nodded. "Okay, do the repositioning. Let's not get that close to ending the world just yet."

"Yes, sir."

"General, what about the Syria portal?" the President asked the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. "You told me you had confirmation on it."

"Yes, sir." He brought up an aerial photograph, taken from a slight angle. It showed the edge of a city, along with farmers' fields and a strange distortion covering the top half of the image. "This was taken by a drone near Raqqa. We're still trying to confirm through other sources, but we believe with ninety percent certainty that this is a portal."

"Holy shit," the President said. He pointed to a few small spots below the distortion. "What are those?"

"We believe those are Creatures of Grimm, sir." The General paused for breath. "And their victims."

"Wait, we haven't seen this with any of the other portals," SecState pointed out. "Why are they rushing through and dismembering people?"

"Maybe they went through and stirred them up," SecDef suggested. "They didn't suddenly run out of the Vancouver portal, but once we were on Remnant they did follow us back. And this portal maybe has some light forces defending it. Versus a shitload of combined arms on the Vancouver portal, the Tokyo portal, both sides of the Washington portal and even the Donbass portal once the Russians moved in."

"Frankly, sir, I'm surprised they didn't attack like this sooner," the National Security Advisor added. "The Grimm are attracted to negative emotions- or so we believe- and there are plenty of those on Earth. It's possible that the portal blocks this or repels them for some reason."

"This is one hell of a mess," the President mentioned.

"Grimm versus ISIS, who do we bomb?" the Secretary of Homeland Security asked grimly.

"We're going to have to sit on this one," the President concluded. "Get me intelligence, get me projections, get me plans. We're going to have to rethink our strategy in the region."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. What about Vale?" the President asked.

"Our delegation is still en route- they might be there now, actually," the Secretary of State reported. "It seems that whatever diplomatic talks will be held at Beacon Academy. The other Kingdoms, provided they're not lying to us- and I don't think that's likely- are sending representatives to meet there. They might already be there but we're still waiting for the talks to begin."

"So, just waiting."

"Yes, sir."

"What about the portal itself? Is it secure?"

The Secretary of Defense answered, "Well, the Canadians are still antsy about it, but yes, we believe it's secure against any reasonable threat. There are limited Remnan forces on the other side of the portal- hunters, not military. We've had limited contact with them."

"And I thought things were going to get _less_ fucked up," the President breathed. "Okay, good work, people. Stay on it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, then probably an epilogue, and that will be the end of Convergence. I'll be talking more about Emergence Second Interquel and Emergence Next in the coming weeks.


	26. To A New Era

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, already at the end of Convergence! To be honest, I don't think it's a great send-off. It's kind of a mess, a bit narmy, and I feel that it's somehow both too long and too short.
> 
> There will be an epilogue after this, and probably a self-indulgent rant about where Emergence came from and where it's going next as well.

**26: To A New Era**

"So, what does the Ukraine think of the deal?"

The President covered the phone with his hand. He told his staff bluntly, "He's pissed off."

"No shit?" the Secretary of the Treasury asked.

Silently, the President reached forward, putting the President of Ukraine on speaker.

"You want us to give up the Eastern territories and Crimea!" his voice shouted angrily. "Mister American President, you are asking us to give away part of our own country. Would you give away Maine and Alaska so easily?"

"Mister Poroshenko, you must face reality," the President said calmly to his counterpart. "The Russian government has given no consideration to the sovereignty of your nation. While you may consider the contested regions as belonging to your nation, they are de facto no longer under your control. You are facing a potential threat from the portal and from the Russian Federation. Your options are-"

"You are giving me no choices!"

"On the contrary. I am offering you a choice. You can reject this offer. The Russians may stop at the edge of the Donbass region or they may continue. Remnan forces may stay on their side of the portal or they may not. Some of your nominal allies may intervene on your behalf, or they may not. You face a great deal of uncertainty. What I am offering you is the continued sovereignty of the rest of your state, backed by us, and by NATO and agreed upon by the Russian Federation. We are proposing is a safer option."

The line was silent except for noise for an agonizing minute. Finally, the Ukrainian asked, "You will send assistance immediately?"

"Is that acceptance?" SecDef asked.

"That's correct. We have forces stationed in Central Europe and the Baltics. The moment this goes through, we'll send them into your country to assist." The President paused. "Do you agree to our proposal?"

"I will agree to it. And then I will try to keep my country from _ripping itself apart._ " He practically spat the words.

"Then we will begin immediately," the President said. "I'm not under any illusions, Mister Poroshenko. This will not be easy. But I am hoping that together we will be able to build a prosperous, independent Ukraine."

The line clicked off.

"Asshole," SecTreas muttered.

"Can you blame him?" SecState asked. "We just strong-armed him out of part of his own country. Maybe part of it that they haven't controlled in a year, but it's still part of their country. He knows he's backed into a corner and he's probably feeling like both sides are fucking him over."

"It's an unfortunate situation." Changing topics, the President asked, "What's the situation in Vale?"

"The Terran delegation has arrived- including the Russian ambassador. We're waiting on the Remnans but it looks like negotiations could begin any time now."

* * *

The Minister of Foreign Affairs surveyed the lineup of officials sitting down around the negotiating table. Coming from countries around the world, they'd rushed to Vancouver and then to Vale to meet their Remnan counterparts. The US was represented by the Deputy Secretary of State, who he'd met before. The British Ambassador, too, he was familiar with. Also present were ambassadors from Japan and the Russian Federation, as well as special representatives of the United Nations and the European Union. However, one representative was notably missing.

"The Chinese aren't here?" he whispered to his American counterpart.

"No, they weren't overly interested," the Deputy Secretary of State replied. "They don't see this as relevant to them."

"Damned shortsighted of them."

"Maybe, maybe not. I think they want to wait and see, work out something when we know more and things are more stable."

The Remnan delegation entered, cutting off their conversation. They recognized one member of the four-person entourage, but the other three were unfamiliar. At the front was a portly man with wispy purple hair and a suit to match. Immediately behind him was General Ironwood, followed by a man with firey orange hair and a serene-looking woman in a flowing orange garment that defied description. They took adjacent unoccupied seats at the opposite end of the table and sat down.

The purple-haired man spoke first. "I'm Councilman Berry, representing the Kingdom of Vale. General Ironwood will be representing Atlas-" That surprised some of the Terran delegates who were less familiar with Atlas's system of government. "-Ambassador Gealbhan of Vacuo and Ambassador Aelius of Mistral. On behalf of the world of Remnant, welcome. We have much to get through, so let's get started."

* * *

"Thank you for coming in," Ozpin said to the team before him. It was, of course, a formality. As students of Beacon- technically they were full Hunters but that would soon be rectified- they were obliged to show. "Please, sit."

"I hope we're not in trouble," Ruby whispered to her teammates before sitting down. Her eyes flicked between the Headmaster behind his desk and Professor Goodwitch standing in the corner of the office.

"No, of course not," Ozpin answered with a smile. "I just wanted to ask a few questions about Earth."

"What kind of questions, Headmaster?" Ruby asked.

He replied casually, "Well... If there is any indication that they will betray us, or if they are hiding anything that may affect the negotiations."

"Wow, no hard questions, huh," Yang remarked.

Brown eyes pierced lavender. "What do you think, Miss Xiao Long?"

"Earth is a really big place," she answered. "It depends who you're negotiating with."

"Then let us begin with perhaps the easier question. Is there something that may affect the negotiations that we do not know about?"

Yang glanced at her sister, then at her partner before answering. "Yeah. I guess. They could have wiped us out if they wanted to. Still could, probably."

"Hmm..."

"Nuclear weapons," Weiss explained. "I could try to explain how they work, but it's way beyond me. There are a few countries on Earth- the United States, Russia, China, Great Britain, France, India, Pakistan, North Korea, and possibly Israel- that have them."

"What kind of weapons are we talking about? People? Machines?"

"Bombs. Delivered by missile or aircraft," she answered grimly. "Drop one, wipe out a city."

"So that's what the book was talking about," Glynda muttered. The book they'd been given had a section on the Cold War, but skirted around the issue of nuclear weapons. They had been mentioned, but not explained.

"Do you believe they will use these weapons on us?" Ozpin asked.

Yang recoiled. "God no! "

"Very well, then," Ozpin concluded. "What can you tell us about who we're negotiating with?"

"They're not too different from us," Weiss answered. "Every side has their own agenda, and everyone's looking for something. But nobody really wants a war, and they're willing to compromise, at least on paper. They'll go for the solution that benefits everyone if you let them."

"Miss Rose, you've been silent," Ozpin mentioned, turning to the girl in red. "What do you think?"

"I think everyone just wants the same thing. They want to get something out of it, but they want to work with Remnant. Nobody wants to fight, we just want to live together. But I think a lot of people are mad about the attack."

Ozpin's eyes shot up. "What attack?"

She took a deep breath before answering. "There was an attack on Earth. The White Fang was there, and so was Torchwick and Cinder Fall."

* * *

"So, the Remnans want to establish a treaty. That's exactly what we expected. What's your take?" the President asked his Secretary of State.

He answered, "It seems that they don't want to commit to anything specific just yet- that's kind of a recurring theme. This treaty is going to be more of an agreement to talk about things than an agreement to actually do them."

The President nodded. "Okay. I know we had some points to broach and they probably did too. What are the main points of the treaty?"

"The big one is securing the portal sites," he answered. "Atlas will cooperate with us on the DC site, Vale with Canada and NATO on the Vancouver site, the Japanese and the Vacuoans on the Tokyo site and the Mistralians and the Russians with the Donbass site. No specifics on what that cooperation entails."

"What about Syria?"

"An agreement to discuss and investigate- their words, not mine. Though that applies to all the portals and who or what opened them. They didn't even know about the fifth portal until we told them."

"Could there be more portals?" SecTreas asked.

The Secretary of Defense answered. "It's possible. We're combing through as best we can and we've advised the Remnans to do the same."

"They've agreed to that in principle as well, though everyone has stopped short of actually declaring a strategy," SecState added.

"What about the issue of terrorism and extradition?" SecTreas asked. "Do they know about Texas?"

"Not the specifics, but we've brought up that there was an attack. They'll probably find out from the teenagers," the President answered. "Sorry, John, go ahead."

"They agree with our desire to pursue justice, in principle. We have another agreement to discuss and build a framework," SecState answered. "They _have_ added a clause to cooperate against terrorism and common enemies- the Russians are a bit hesitant about that but I expect them to acquiesce. In any case, we're not going to be able to hand over our prisoners or hunt down the White Fang yet, though it might be sooner than we think. The Remnans move fast."

"How fast?" the President asked.

"They want to finish negotiations and sign it tomorrow."

"What about trade, technology, visiting, immigration?" the Secretary of the Treasury asked.

The President answered, "The plan was to broach that but not commit to anything."

"Yes, sir, that's what we've done," SecState confirmed. "We want to define frameworks for future possibilities of trade, cultural contact, and cross-portal movement. We expect them to agree to this with no issues because they don't have to do anything about it yet."

The Secretary of Homeland Security interrupted, "Wouldn't those be fairly thorny issues?"

"It would, but like I said, nobody's actually committing to anything. It's better to appear open to it even if nobody actually wants to do anything. Like I've said, the treaty is basically a letter that says we're going to keep talking and not shoot each other. Although it is possible that they have more in mind that they're not telling us about."

"Where exactly are we in the treaty process?" the President asked.

"Most of the way through the drafting," the Secretary of State answered. "It'll be night soon in Vale, so the talks have stopped for the moment. The Remnan parties expect to finish drafting the treaty and signing it tomorrow morning."

"That's fast."

"Yes, sir. We figured they'd move fast going in, and they're not disappointing us. We're going to have to warn them that it could take a month to ratify."

The President nodded. "Okay. Let me know the moment we move forward with this."

* * *

"We've been up here before," Rose noted as she followed her husband out on the roof. She didn't remember why or how, but the view was familiar. And spectacular.

Taiyang shut the door gently behind them.. "Many times. The first time was when we were students here." He paused. "Do you think other students use this place? I hope they don't catch us."

Rose shrugged. "Fuck 'em."

They sat down on the edge of the roof, legs dangling off into the open air. It was a clear night, with the shattered moon dominating the inky sky. They were facing the wrong way to see Vale, but could see Forever Fall and a strange glow from over the horizon.

"What is that glow, anyway?" Taiyang asked. "The portal, isn't it?"

"Sort of. The time here doesn't match up to Earth," Rose explained. "It's still daylight in Vancouver."

"I missed this," Taiyang said, snuggling up close to her. "I missed you."

"Me too."

"So..."

Rose raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"So, what are you going to do, now that you're back?"

"Stay at home, dote on my daughters when they come home." She shook her head. "We both know that's not going to happen."

"You're going back to being a Huntress?" At the same time, Taiyang was surprised and not surprised. She couldn't stay away back then, either, and for a while, they'd made it work.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"I don't want to lose you again," Taiyang admitted. "You're really going back to being a Huntress?"

"Like I said, maybe. I don't know. I just got back." She paused. "But... I don't have to. I don't want to do what I did again. I just don't know if I can stay away, if everything people tell me is true."

"What _are_ people telling you? That you're the best Huntress ever?" He leaned in close and kissed her on the cheek. "Because you are."

"Has anyone told you that you pick really weird times to flirt?" Rose commented.

"Yes. You did. Many times. But you love it." He winked.

"You're not wrong." She replied with a smirk.

"You haven't changed." Taiyang said after a pause. He pulled her close for a passionate kiss under the stars.

_Haven't I?_

* * *

The negotiation process started early the next morning. After the preliminary talks, the delegates were given accommodations and allowed to contact their home governments. For the American and Canadian delegations, this was relatively straightforward- the equipment was already set up. The other delegates used encrypted voice and text over a high-power wireless backhaul link bridged to a cellular modem on the Earth side of the portal. To some observers, it seemed an odd system, but it allowed end-to-end encryption to be used and could be quickly cobbled together from off-the-shelf hardware.

Early morning sunlight streamed gently through the windows of the conference room, illuminating the table as the representatives took their seats. Orderlies and a lone photographer flitted between the officials. The Valic representative summed it up to his Atlesian colleague. "A beautiful morning for such an important treaty, General."

"Yes."

The Councilman addressed the delegates before him. "If there are no last-minute changes, the signing process may begin."

"In the spirit of the peace process, we will sign the treaty as presented," the Russian ambassador replied. To demonstrate his government's commitment, he immediately signed his copy with only a cursory glance.

"The Kingdom of Vale agrees to the conditions of the Beacon Agreement," the Valic Councillor agreed. He scrawled his signature on his copy of the treaty.

"Atlas agrees to the Beacon Agreement."

"The Kingdom of Vacuo agrees to be bound by the conditions of the Beacon Agreement."

"Mistral agrees to the conditions and considerations of the Beacon Agreement."

 _Not a lot of legalese_ , the Deputy Secretary of State thought as he read through the document. Satisfied that it was the same treaty that they had agreed to sign, he picked up the pen and attached his signature to the document. He made no statement echoing that of the Remnan ministers. It wouldn't be binding until it was ratified, and if he made such a statement it could be misconstrued.

"I told you they'd move fast," the Canadian Foreign Minister whispered to the Brit next to him after signing his copy.

"Indeed. It would be very unusual for even a treaty of this nature to move from drafting to signing in a day. I can't help but feel we are rushing this."

"On our world, we act quickly or suffer the consequences," Ambassador Aelius told him, overhearing the exchange. "Inaction can be fatal. Rarely do we have the luxury of waiting."

"Japan will sign the treaty of the Beacon Agreement," the Japanese Ambassador called, adding his own signature.

"That will be all?" Councilman Berry asked, looking to the two remaining delegates.

"The European Union supports the treaty in principle but does not have the authority accede without the approval of its member states," the EU representative stated, French accent heavy in his voice.

The UN envoy answered, "The role of the United Nations is to witness international agreements."

"So be it. Thank you all," the Councilman Berry concluded. "We've made history today."

* * *

Ozpin stood near the edge of the room, surveying the handiwork of his students and staff. The Beacon hall had been dressed up once again. It probably wasn't sufficient for the event at hand, but on such short notice it would have to do. There was some talk of using a venue in Vale and flying the Terran delegation into the city, but ultimately it had come to nothing.

"You're early," Ozpin remarked as a blonde woman approached him.

"So are you," Glynda shot back.

"Better to be early than to be late," Ozpin replied nonchalantly. "I see the students came through."

"Eventually. We had a few fourth-year teams who were... well, not eager to do it, but they did a good job." She shook her head. "This whole thing is seriously disrupting the operation of Beacon Academy. The students are getting restless and they're not learning."

"An unfortunate sacrifice that had to be made. I'm sure they will soon understand the importance of these events."

"Yes..." Glynda rounded on Ozpin. "Do you still trust the General?"

The Headmaster considered for a moment before answering. "He was not wrong. If there is one thing James can be relied on, it is that he will always do what he feels is right."

"That is why we keep him around," she agreed half-jokingly.

"I do have my reservations," Ozpin admitted. "But we would not be better served by cutting him out."

She changed topics. "Have you talked to Summer yet?"

"Not yet."

"What's your feeling on this whole thing?" Glynda asked deliberately. "Do you think we're headed for a new era, or straight into a trap?"

"We have avoided a war, and hopefully built the foundations of a new relationship," Ozpin concluded. "Our important work is yet to begin, and the current peace may be temporary, but for the moment, we may celebrate."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

It was obvious that the Beacon hall was not intended for a diplomatic event, but Ozpin's evaluation of the situation was shared by most of those present. It was remarkably well done considering how little time was available. The momentous events of the past day and a half overshadowed any such considerations.

In addition to the delegates from the negotiation, several guests had been invited to the reception. These included the rest of the Terran contact team, the senior Beacon staff, a few Atlesian officers and a handful of Valic government functionaries. Notably absent were any of the Remnans who had lived on Earth.

Reporters circulated in droves. Most of them were from Vale, with a few from the other Kingdoms. Earth was represented solely by a CTV news crew flown in the previous night, distinguished from their local counterparts by their bulky Terran equipment and military escort.

"This has been a very quick process, but it's very well done," said the British Ambassador to the military officer in front of him. "These Remnans can certainly put on quite the show, and in short order too."

"I won't argue with that, sir," Colonel Hale acknowledged. Catching a familiar shape in the corner of his eye, he told the ambassador, "Excuse me, sir."

The ambassador tipped his class. "Enjoy your evening, Colonel."

Hale nodded at the ambassador one more time before he disappeared into the crowd. He was headed for a large man in the uniform of an Atlesian general. "General Ironwood, may I speak with you for a moment?"

The General nodded. He could tell by the Colonel's tone that this was something for him and him alone to hear. He led the Canadian officer to a secluded corner of the hall. "Okay, Colonel. What's this about?"

"Your military android- gynoid- known as Penny, is public knowledge on Earth. That includes her nature as a synthetic machine, a fictionalized depiction of her personality and, to a limited extent, her capabilities," Hale told him. "As with the nature of your world as a fictional universe, this knowledge will inevitably spread from Earth to Remnant. It was the decision of my government to inform you of this discreetly to avoid unhappy surprises in the future."

Ironwood's response was simple. "How?"

"How do we know?"

"That's right. How do you know about one of our most classified military secrets?" Ironwood asked, voice calm but with an edge to it.

Hale refused to flinch under the General's glare. "I was under the impression that Headmaster Ozpin had already filled you in."

"He did, I just didn't believe it," Ironwood answered half-truthfully. "Even if such a show does exist, why would our _secrets_ be on that show?"

"She was chosen as a major character," Hale answered. "Unfortunately, I'm not the one to ask about that."

Ironwood nodded, realizing that was all he would get. He asked bluntly, "Anything else I should know?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, sir, there is, though you may already know about this from debriefing Jaune Arc," Hale told him, with slight hesitation. "We have reason to believe that your CCT system may be compromised. We believe a virus was uploaded by the criminal known as Cinder Fall on the night of the Beacon dance. We cannot confirm this but our experts strongly advise that you carefully examine the system."

This time, Ironwood forced himself not to react. "Okay. Thank you, Colonel. I'll relay your information to my superiors."

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news," Hale apologized. "Have a pleasant evening, sir."

On the other side of the room, the American representative and his Russian counterpart were having a much different conversation.

"This could be the most important agreement of our time," the Deputy Secretary of State told him. "Yet you and your government have been less than enthusiastic. I would dare say you are more suspicious than cautious."

"Russia has seen many agreements breached in the past, to her detriment. This one may be nothing but empty platitudes. We know so little at this point," the Russian Ambassador cautioned. "Still, it is a start."

"A lot has happened in the past few days," he agreed. "A start is a lot better than what we could have had. I think that's worth celebrating."

"Our governments disagree in many things. But that, we can agree on." He raised his glass. "To a future together, Mister Deputy Secretary."

* * *

Escorted by a pair of F-15C Eagle fighters and a KC-10 Extender which it had just topped up from, the E-4 continued its steady cruise above the United States. Soon, its mission would be over. With the crisis stabilizing, they would soon land at Offutt Air Force Base.

"Well, we have a treaty," the Secretary of State told the staff gathered aboard. "It may be vague as hell and it still needs to be ratified, but it's something."

"That's a lot more than we could have hoped for." The President asked, "John, do you think everyone will hold up their end of the deal?"

"We'll follow through on our end unless Congress decides to do something stupid. So will the Canadians. The Japanese, too. Even the Russians will do _something_ ," the Secretary of State replied. "The Remnant states are harder to judge. I don't think any of them will object in principle, but they're going to interpret things different ways. They threw this together in part to shut us up and I think they know we know it."

"They'll probably object to military intervention- they say they'll work together with us against the White Fang and other groups but I doubt they'll be happy with us carrying out drone strikes," SecDef added. "They'll probably expect us to foot the bill for the portal stations- after all, we're the ones on the defensive."

"It's a start, at least. We've avoided World War Three and drafted a peaceful agreement with the Remnans," the President said. He pulled off his tie and tossed it on the conference table. "Once we land in Washington, I'm going to have a hell of a speech to give, so perhaps this is a little premature. But I think we've pulled off quite the victory today. Good job, everyone."

"I'm going to be perfectly honest, I was expecting way more to go wrong," the Secretary of Defense mentioned.

"No shit," SecState agreed.

"I think this is an occasion worth celebrating." The President flagged down an airman carrying a stack of papers. "Technical Sergeant, is there any alcohol aboard this plane?"

"Not officially, sir," he answered carefully.

The President winked. "Bring us the best stuff you've got, please."

"Yes, sir."

The airman soon returned, carrying several plastic cups and four bottles of red wine. The President took one, read the label, and nodded, impressed. "I would have preferred something harder, but this is a good vintage. How long have these been aboard?"

"We, uh, call this the last drink, Mister President," the airman answered. "As far as I know, it's been here since the Reagan era."

"That's grim," SecTreas noted.

"Well, it's a good thing it was never used for its intended purpose," he replied lightly. The airman held out a corkscrew. Instead of handing the bottle over, the President took the corkscrew and opened the bottle himself. He handed it to the Secretary of State before opening the next bottle.

"Can't fucking believe we're doing this," SecState muttered, pouring a cup for the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

The Chairman protested, "Sir, I'm-"

The President interrupted, "I'm your Commander-In-Chief and I authorize you to drink."

"Yes, sir." Having been given dispensation, the General took his wine. With the executive staff playing server, it didn't take long to distribute a "glass" of wine for everyone in the room.

The President raised his glass. "To a new era."

"To a new era."

* * *

 


	27. Loose Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a bunch of very short snippets. It ballooned. A lot. Also, I haven't written most of these characters in a long time. But... here we are. At the end of Convergence. Thank you all for coming this far.
> 
> This is the end of Convergence, but not the end of the series. Emergence Second Interquel, which does not yet have a proper name, will be the de facto next instalment in the series. It will follow several characters, some canon and some original, through the tumultuous few years immediately following contact. The format will differ somewhat; it may be more of an anthology separated into arcs. That will arrive some time in September. Possibly earlier, but it depends how things go. Emergence Next is a separate story set twenty years in the future, which will come after the interquel.
> 
> However, I do not have plans to post either story to AO3. It takes a bit of work to cross-post and the readership here is the lowest of any of the sites I post to. You can read the rest of the series on Spacebattles or Fanfiction when it comes out. I feel the Spacebattles version is better because of the discussion.

"I miss the Internet," Weiss commented sadly, turning over the phone on her desk. It was dead, of course. She had a charger, but was sure that forcing it into a completely incompatible Remnan socket would result in a busted socket, exploded charger, and destroyed phone. "Am I the only bored one in here?"

Blake glanced above her book- _Night_ – and shrugged.

"Nope!" Ruby exclaimed from her bunk. "Maybe we'll start classes again soon, and there's the Vytal festival which I'm super excited about, but right now I'm-"

"Shh," Blake interrupted.

Yang asked her. "What is it?"

The faunus girl motioned to the window, putting down her book and picking up Gambol Shroud. Ruby wielded Crescent Rose, aiming the huge rifle toward the opening. Yang extended Ember Celica, and Weiss lamented the fact that Myrtenaster was on the other side of the room.

The window bumped audibly, curtains shaking with the motion.

"Who's there?" Ruby shouted. She whispered, "Yang, curtains."

Gingerly, the blonde reached over and pulled the curtains aside.

"Sun?" Yang sighed and threw the window all the way open.

"Whoa, don't shoot! It's just me!" the monkey faunus protested, hands in the air.

Weiss sighed. "Unbelievable."

"What are you doing here?" Blake asked, loweringher weapon.

"Trying to figure out if you were really back or if your Headmaster was pulling a fast one, duh," he answered, rolling his eyes.

"Can we go in now?" a scared voice asked from outside.

Three weapons were raised again. Ruby asked, "I thought you were the only one."

"Yeah, just me... and Neptune," Sun admitted.

"Just hurry up and come inside," Weiss snapped at them. Weapons were lowered again, and the two boys from SSSN hopped down from the window into their dorm.

"What happened to _no unnecessary movement_?" Weiss asked. Since the opening of the portals, the school was on a partial lockdown. Students were to stay in their rooms except for mealtimes and when absolutely necessary.

"Like I said, this _is_ necessary. We saw you coming in from those weird Earth flying machines, and we had to find out if it was really you," Sun told her. "You know, with all the weird stuff going on and all."

"It's really us," Blake stated.

"Are you sure?" Neptune asked.

"Yes," Yang snapped.

"Well, I guess that's good to..." He noticed something about Blake. "Hey! You're not wearing your bow!"

She smiled. "Yeah. When I was on Earth I hid my ears like I did here, but then... well, something happened, and everybody knew anyway. So I stopped wearing it."

"It's natural. You know, you really do look better without it," Sun flirted.

"Stop. She's taken," Weiss snapped.

"Oh, really, you find yourself a boyfriend on Earth or something?"

Blake answered, "Not exactly."

"What about you, Snow Angel?" Neptune asked, throwing a charming wink at Weiss.

"Yes," she hissed through gritted teeth. "I have a girlfriend."

He threw his hands up in the air in an exaggerated motion. "Whoa, sorry."

"No, I'm the one who should be apologizing." Weiss sighed. She knew her dislike of the blue-haired young man was unnecessary and unjustified. She excused, "It's just... some unexpected and strange things happened on Earth. It's a really long story."

"Yeah, talk about it. This place was really weird after you guys disappeared," Sun began, scratching the back of his neck. "And, uh, well-"

"It was hard on you, wasn't it?" Ruby guessed.

Sun answered unconvincingly, "Huh? No, of course not! Well, I mean, it was a tragedy, but it's not like we did nothing but sulk or anything."

"You were the last to see us, at the docks. And he probably spilled everything to you," Yang said, first to Sun and then to Neptune. "It wasn't your fault. We did something- I don't know what it was- but it wasn't your fault."

"Wait, was it?" Weiss asked bluntly. "Do you know about anything we did after the docks? Did we go somewhere, do something?"

"No, that was the last time I saw any of you guys. But it's not just that. It's what happened after," Sun admitted.

"Part of the long story?"

"Uh... sort of."

"Well, we've got time," Ruby said. "Let's hear it."

* * *

Like RWBY, JNPR had also returned to their old room. Apart from a coating of dust, it was almost as they had left it. There was a mood of boredom and strangeness pervading the room, or at least there would have been if Nora hadn't been chattering constantly since their return.

"Do you think they'll let us compete in the Vytal Festival?" Nora asked nobody in particular. "Ooh, I wonder who we'll be up against. I think I saw some-" A series of knocks on their door interrupted her rant. "I wonder who that could be?"

"I'll get it." Jaune hopped off his bed and nearly tripped over his chair on his way to the door. He opened it, revealing an orange-haired, green-eyed girl.

The girl smiled broadly and tilted her head slightly. "Salutations!"

"Uh... hi," Jaune greeted awkwardly. "You're Penny, right? Why, uh, why are you here?"

"I wish to learn about Earth," she answered simpley "May I enter your room?"

"Sure." The blonde stepped aside, letting her in. "Why wouldn't you ask RWBY, though? I mean, aren't you friends with Ruby?"

"I think so. But Team RWBY is occupied listening to Sun Wukong and Neptune Vasilias," Penny admitted. "I did check with them first."

"Are you really a robot?" Nora asked immediately. "I mean, we're not gonna treat you like a machine or start telling everyone because that would be bad. But I do _really_ want to know."

"Come on, Nora," Jaune muttered.

"Why would you think that?" Penny asked, hiccuping into her arm.

"Nora," Ren warned.

It was no use. "Oh, well there was a show on Earth, and you were in it, and in that show you were a robot. Not that it's all real, but there was a lot of things that were really similar to reality, which is why I'm asking. Are you a robot?"

"I was hoping to make new friends here. I don't have a lot of friends," she said, voice oddly neutral. "If I tell you I am a robot, will you still allow me to be your friend? And do you promise to keep my secret?"

"This is really weird, but okay," Jaune answered.

"I also think it would be strange, but I have seen some very strange things recently," Pyrrha admitted. "I am open to it."

"I think that'd actually be really cool if you were a robot!" Nora shouted. "I mean I'm not implying you're a robot."

"In the end, synthetic life and organic life is not so different," Ren said. "I have no objections."

"Then I will admit I am what you might call a robot. I am the first synthetic person capable of generating an Aura." She surveyed the team before her. "I expected you to be more shocked."

"Like Nora said, we kind of already heard," Jaune admitted.

"Oh."

"What's wrong?" Nora asked, noticing Penny pause and look down at the floor. "Robots are awesome! And we didn't know-know, we just suspected. I had to make sure."

"It's not that!" Penny answered too quickly. "It's... nothing."

"There's something else on your mind," Nora said in an irritatingly singsong voice. "Come on, tell us! I'm your friend, right? What are friends for if not sharing your problems?"

"Anything but that," Ren muttered under his breath.

"I... felt wrong when friend Ruby disappeared," Penny admitted. "Like I was empty, part of my missing. It robbed me of energy. Yet I was never physically malfunctioning."

"It's an emotion we call grief," Pyrrha told the gynoid. "When you lose a friend, you feel an immense sense of loss and sadness. That's natural. It's important to not allow that to control you. You must move on, live for your friend."

"I don't need to _now_ , because friend Ruby has returned," Penny replied cheerfully after a moment of consideration. "But I know that this is not the norm. Most huntresses who disappear are dead. I will keep this in mind for the future, friend Pyrrha." She paused. "Now, please tell me about Earth. What was it like?"

"It's... different," Pyrrha answered. "I'm not even sure where to begin."

"Please try. I'm very interested."

"Well, okay..."

* * *

Sam, Isaac, Cliff, Ben, and Jen gathered in Ben's apartment, crowded into the living room. They had been among the first to meet real live Remnans, going through the shock and confusion months before anyone else. Now, like millions around the world, they were gathered in front of a television, watching the same coverage as everyone else.

The reporter appeared to be standing in front of a large window as she made her report, Remnant's shattered moon visible in the night sky. "Officials have stressed that this is only the beginning- opening the doors to real negotiations. This is a different world and there is a lot to sort out in the coming days. But, as the sentiment goes here, it's a start."

Abruptly, the image changed to a man sitting against a generic newscast backdrop. "That was Lisa LaFlamme, CTV News, reporting from the other side of the portal. We'll have more on the situation after the break."

"I thought you liked BBC better," Ben mentioned, motioning to the reporter on the screen.

"This _is_ BBC," Cliff replied. "There's only one team from Earth over there. I'm actually surprised it's not Global."

"Wow," Isaac breathed. "I still can barely believe that Remnant is actually here. Do you think we'll get airships and robots and stuff now?"

"Eventually, probably. That's going to take a while," Jen told him.

Half ignoring her, he added, "I want to drive a Paladin."

"Better win a lottery first," Sam snarked.

"Eh, I have rich friends with connections."

Sam interrupted, "You do not-" He stopped and thought about it. "Okay, you do, I'll give you that."

"I wonder how she's doing," Jen said.

"Maybe she'll tell Siegfried to fuck off. I'd pay money to see that. Yeah, Weiss telling the company to eat a bag of dicks, Blake goes all 'I have a dream' and shit with the faunus, and I got nothing for the other two." Seeing the odd stares he was getting, Cliff excused, "I'm drunk."

"You've had _two_ ," Ben reminded him. "That's the least of anyone here."

"Yeah but for me, that's super drunk." Cliff took a final swig from his glass. "Welp, welcome to the new geopolitical reality."

Sam floated, "So, uh, I know we've all been thinking this, but what are we going to do now?"

"I'm going to waste all my time on my game," Cliff announced. "The design is done, the mechanics are okay and the story... well, it's shit, but nobody will notice. With all this interest I can get everyone on board. That Spanish guy who's always sketching in class, Tyler, the girl from the game dev club, the weirdo who's always hanging out by 306 and maybe someone who actually knows what the hell they're doing. Then I'll sell it and get rich."

"Can I help?" Isaac asked.

"Yes. When you stop using Paint."

"Your plan is terrible," Ben chided.

"It is an excellent plan."

"Are you going to drop out?" Sam asked, more seriously.

"I'm not going to drop out of school, but I might do really bad. Enough about me, what about you?"

"I dunno. I mean, I'm not creative, so I can't exploit that."

"You could join the Army. Might even let you be a helicopter pilot like you wanted."

"Eh... fuck that."

"I've heard that there are a bunch of technology companies that want to push into Remnant," Ben mentioned. "That's where I want to go."

"I literally just follow him," Jen said, motioning to Ben.

"Isaac?"

"Eh, I dunno."

"You know, that may be the best plan." Cliff shot back the rest of his drink- or tried to. Only a bit of ice was left. "Shit."

"I know, right?"

"I meant this glass, but yeah."

* * *

"Man, crazy as hell at the restaurant," Gavin Lloyd said to his brother, shutting the door and hanging up his hat on the way in. "Mom and dad home?"

Connor paused his game. "No, they went to Superstore to pick stuff up for tomorrow."

"Oh, right. Are you going to get a job this summer?"

"Hell no." He put down his controller. "I don't want to get a job before I have to."

Gavin laughed. "I don't blame you. It sucks. Was that Witcher 3?"

"Yeah. It's not as good as Damon said it would be."

"Eh. I thought it was okay. How's life."

Connor sighed. "It's okay, I guess."

Gavin asked, "It's about Ruby, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Connor admitted. "I mean, I know she's got a life there and she has to do her huntress stuff. But it sucks."

"You know what they say, there are other fish in the sea," Gavin reminded him.

"That's easy for you to say!" Connor exclaimed. "You're the football star! You're already back with Willow! You could have any girl you want, even if didn't have the cred from hooking up with Yang Xiao Long."

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Gavin agreed. "But there's a difference between having any girl and having the right girl. Willow's okay, I guess, but she's not Yang."

"Do you think she was, like, the one?"

"I don't know, little bro."

"You know, Ruby said she'd come back," Connor added after an awkward pause.

"Wait, what?"

"If she can," he hurriedly added. "I don't know if she's actually ever going to. I just feel like it's wrong to move on."

Gavin sighed. "Look, Connor, I'm a terrible person for relationship advice. But you're sixteen. You've got plenty of time. Just do what feels right- or, you know, who feels right- and you'll be fine."

* * *

"You're new," Roman Torchwick remarked, watching the FBI agent enter the house from his position on the couch. Neo was sitting on the kitchen counter, and there was some presidential candidate making grandiose claims on TV.

"Agents assigned to these matters are on a rotating schedule." The answer was a half-truth. Specifically, agents assigned to _Torchwick_ rotated in and out.

"Ah, of course. I suppose there is too much of a good thing."

The agent broke her professional mask. "You're insufferable."

He smirked. "Thank you."

"I suppose you've heard the news by now," the agent stated, sitting down across from the thief and getting down to business. "We've made contact with Remnant. There are five known portals, one connected to Vale, one to Atlas, one to Mistral, one to Vacuo, and one unknown. We've made diplomatic contact with all Kingdoms and drafted an agreement to cooperate on certain issues, though it is non-binding and has not been ratified."

Torchwick motioned to the television. "I know. I do get the news here."

"My role here is to inform you on how this affects or how it does not affect your current position."

"Well, do I get to go home yet?" the thief asked, clasping his hands in front of himself. "I must admit I'm getting tired of this gilded cage. A cold, dark cell somewhere in Vale is much more appealing."

"Unfortunately, that likely will not happen, at least not anytime soon," the agent stated. "There are many who would like to see you extradited, for some very good and some not-so-good reasons. But the long and short of it is that it would be illegal. We do not have an extradition treaty with any of the Kingdoms and none of them have put in a request for extradition. At this point none are even aware of your existence. You will stand trial in the United States and you will be sentenced in the United States."

He seemed uninterested. "Hmm."

"Might I remind you that the charge of terrorism generally carries the death sentence?" the agent reminded him. "You've given very little to us, Mister Torchwick. Change that, and you may be tried as a criminal and not a terrorist, with the death penalty off the table."

He smirked. "I'll think about it."

* * *

A state away, a very similar conversation was taking place between Special Agent Sonia Kann and the sole Faunus survivor of the Texas attack.

"I've seen the news," Siena told the FBI agent. "What happens to me now? Are you going to ship me back to Atlas? I'm sure they want me there."

"There are a lot of people who would like to see that happen," Kann admitted. "But the short answer is that it almost certainly will not. It's illegal."

"More illegal than killing innocent people?"

"From a certain point of view," Kann answered. "We have no extradition treaty with Atlas, and without that, we cannot hand you over for any crimes committed in Atlas."

"So I'm going to trial here, for what I've done here," Siena concluded. "I'm going to die here, aren't I?"

"Honestly, I can't tell you what's going to happen," Kann admitted. "Your case is unique- well, every case is unique, but there really is no precedent. You've cooperated, which no terrorist has done in recent history. You've shown understanding and regret even before your arrest. I think that's what your defence attorney will focus on. Your cooperation and deradicalization. But..."

The faunus raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"The law is supposed to be blind, but there other considerations," Kann admitted. "There's political interest in your trial, even more so than the Torchwick one. Faunus-Terran relations are going to be a big issue in the coming months. We have to be careful about how that trial is perceived. That might work in your favour, or you might get a harsher sentence as an example."

Siena laughed mirthlessly. "Well, that's just great, isn't it?"

"Look, Siena, I promise you will get a fair trial, as much as possible," the FBI agent assured. "You've been very brave and you've done the right thing. You'll get through this. You will not get the death sentence if I can help it, you will not get extradited if I can help it."

"We've been served many empty promises before. _I've_ been served many empty promises before. Our entire race was nearly wiped out by human hands. Forgive me if I still have problems believing you."

Kann smiled sadly. "It's not as unfamiliar a story as you might think."

"I'm ready to die. I've accepted that," Siena admitted. "I just don't want this to happen again. And I don't want it to be taken out on my brothers and sisters. I don't want to be the one who started another war for the Faunus."

"Evil only requires good people to stand by and do nothing." Kann paraphrased. "Don't give up just yet."

* * *

_Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that._

Even though the message was anonymous, Adam Taurus knew who had sent it. Blake Belladonna hadn't wrote it, of course. No doubt it was a quote from one of her goddamn books. He grudgingly admitted that it was surprisingly poetic for something out of a smut novel.

The White Fang was in an odd position. Not necessarily an unenviable one, but an odd one. They were both better off and worse off than they were months prior. Better off because they no longer had to deal with the human bitch trying to boss them around. Worse off because they had to deal with the fallout of her actions.

It had been a relief when Cinder disappeared off the face of Remnant. Most of the Fang cared little for her plans. They had followed for two reasons- because it would hurt the humans and because they had no choice. There had always been talk of stabbing her in the back when the time was right, talk which he had done nothing to discourage. He'd even considered it himself.

On the other hand, it also left them with no direction. They'd spent all their resources and all their efforts building up to Cinder's plan, which had been abruptly been cut short halfway through its execution. They had no plans of their own. Their assets were scattered. They had soldiers across the world in places that meant everything to Cinder but nothing to them.

He saw the change as an opportunity. It was time to bring the Fang back, and he would be the leader to do it. It would take some time to clean up and consolidate, but after that they would return stronger than ever before.

And then there was Earth.

Earth had the potential to deeply divide the White Fang. It was full of humans and only humans, and from his point of view they were the enemy as much as their humans were. But there were others within his organization that did not share that view. The Earthers had never done anything against the Faunus, had they? It was wishful thinking, the delusions of fools who couldn't dedicate themselves to the cause. Soon enough for Earthers would do the same things as every human on Remnant.

A dozen new messages had appeared on his Scroll. He glanced at the latest message.

_The time is always right to do what is right._

Adam threw the Scroll across the room in frustration. He shouted at his subordinates, " _S_ _he's_ back. We need a new plan."

* * *

Siegfried Schnee twitched with disapproval as he watched the video on his terminal.

His daughter, the one he had dismissed as dead, was back. And, it seemed, she had forgotten all manner of proper decorum. Hopping off the odd Earth flying machine with significantly less grace than befitted a girl of her stature, she followed her team leader with a distinctly pedestrian gait. Her appearance too was significantly degraded. Her hair was long and dirty and her jacket crooked. Weiss pointed to something offscreen, elbowed the Faunus beside her and they shared a laugh. His daughter, friends with one of those dirty freaks!

Finally, he decided he'd had enough and shut it off. There was an explanation to be demanded from Weiss, but that was only one of his concerns.

For his part in the conspiracy, he was not worried. The SDC had not done anything illegal. Questionable, certainly, but not too far beyond the norm. He knew nothing of any grand plans, only of a promise of a payoff for humanity and the Company. He had his suspicions, of course, but his concern was the Company. It could be embarrassing, but anything could be quieted with the means and the will, and he had plenty of both.

No, it was the massive shakeup in the order of the world that had him concerned. He could think beyond the immediate bottom line, and prided himself on that as one of his reasons for success. And he saw many that could affect the SDC one way or the other in the days going forward.

Earth had no Dust- or at least couldn't exploit it. That wasn't common knowledge yet, but it was hardly a secret. There were so many things Dust could be used for- it was the backbone of all their technology for a reason, after all. Once the Earthers realized how useful it was, they would be clamouring for it. Raw Dust. Dust-based technology. Dust extraction. There was a door and he held the key.

The other world was also a world of billions. Billions of customers, certainly. Billions of competitors, just as certainly. No doubt there were companies like his own on the other side, and if there weren't they soon would be. Perhaps the Earthers learned slower than they did, and perhaps they were not nearly as ruthless, but he personally doubted it. If the conditions were right, and if he made a mistake, the tables would be turned and the SDC would be the one being pushed out.

It was also a world that had flying machines and cars and computer and nearly every modern convenience, without the benefit of Dust. He'd even heard of space rockets and doomsday devices, though he was sure that was just alarmist fantasy. Dust was a precious resource that he dealt in, and if they could duplicate Earth's technology, there would be a lot less demand for it. He needed to find out and plan a strategy accordingly. Either the SDC would become a leader in energy alternatives or an obstacle to them.

There was also the knowledge Earth had of Remnant. He had heard varying reports on how much knowledge that really was, but any at all put them at a disadvantage. And if there was one thing Siegfried hated, it was being at a disadvantage. That was something he needed to rectify immediately.

In any event, Earth was something he would need to deal with personally. He could nearly see the Atlas-Washington portal from his office window, but for several reasons it was of little interest to him. With a well-practiced motion, he paged his secretary.

"Prepare an airship to leave for Vale immediately," he ordered. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "And bring Winter here. She will be joining us."

* * *

The Queen of Atlas may have been arrogant, even- hesitantly- by her own admission, but she was not so arrogant as to ignore the brewing storm that was coming her way.

This whole thing was her doing. She had brought the right people together, even if half of them had no idea who the other half were. She had organized the scientists and the suppliers and the soldiers. She had pushed and she had prodded. She had set up the events that set up the right conditions for everything to work out. Perhaps sooner or later someone would have had the same idea, but it was her who was ultimately responsible for changing the world.

Needless to say, it had not been the change she had expected or wanted. She'd suppressed the dissenting opinion in her head a long time ago, and it had turned out to be the correct one.

It was clear that the portals were not a natural phenomenon. Someone, somewhere, had opened them up, and all eyes were on Atlas. There were people who had seen her facilities, who had tracked down the evidence and disappeared only to come back from the dead again. There were people who had worked in them to make this future possible. Some of them knew they were in too deep. Some weren't, and some wouldn't know or case. Someone would talk.

If she were implicated...

She walked to the edge of the balcony and looked down at the ground a hundred feet below. Certainly it was tempting. It would be an easy way out for her. But she had her Kingdom to worry about. Her death would raise suspicion that could turn into something that would tear Atlas apart.

Stepping back inside to her desk, she picked up the unfinished note on her desk. Abdicating the throne would mean many questions that nobody would want to hear the answers to. And it would create the same power struggle as if she had killed herself.

There was no easy way out.

But perhaps the time for panic was not yet. It was probable Ozpin knew, but not guaranteed, and he could not prove anything. Qrow, even if he was a spy, did not know where the facilities were. She had left trails, hoping it wouldn't matter, but they could still be made to go away. Maybe she couldn't erase it all, but she could make it hard enough to prove that the Kingdom- and maybe even her position- would survive.

Let the Chancellor deal with his new world. She had her own problems.

* * *

Rose sat behind a computer terminal in her room- well, _their_ room- fingers hovering over the holographic keyboard. It was getting late, and she wasn't even sure what she was searching for anymore. It had taken her a moment to get used to the interface, but apparently computers hadn't changed much in ten years on Remnant. On Earth, they'd gone from using XP to... scratch that, they were still using XP at the department, even if she did have Windows 10 at home.

The room was a staff suite that had been occupied by Taiyang for a few weeks. His bags were neatly organized. Her stuff was thrown haphazardly in piles. They'd be returning to Patch sooner or later, but for now, this was home. A home that made her one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan look nice.

A hard knock at the door broke her out of her thoughts.

"Coming!" Rose called, stumbling over her own mess as she made her way to the other side of the room. She opened the door and immediately recognized it. "Hey, Qrow."

"Huh, Glynda wasn't lying. You moved back in together already," he remarked, peering through the doorway. "Is Tai around?"

"He's finishing up some shit with Ozpin," Rose answered. She stepped back from the door, waving the huntsman inside the room. "You can come in if you want."

"Sure. You know I never had a chance to properly welcome you back," Qrow said. He handed her a brown paper bag. "It's Atlesian whisky. I always thought that stuff was godawful, but this was your favourite."

She inspected the bottle. The graphics, the colours, even the shape of the bottle itself seemed familiar to her. All of it evoked good times. "Looks good. Thanks, Qrow."

"So, uh, you gonna drink that or save it for later?" Qrow asked, taking a seat on the sofa.

Rose knew what he was getting at, and had a feeling he'd done it before. "I'm sure there's some glasses around here somewhere. You want some of this 'godawful crap'?"

"Yeah."

Leaving the bottle on the counter of the kitchenette, Rose riffled through the cupboards. Pots, pans, baking sheet- maybe she should try making cookies again- spoons, forks, cereal with Pyrrha on it, plastic cups, shot glasses! She grabbed a pair, blew the dust out, and carried them back to the living area. She popped the top off the bottle and poured a finger into each glass before handing one to Qrow and sitting down across from him.

"Welcome back to Remnant." Qrow raised his glass. "To a family back together again."

"Thanks." Rose smiled as she shot back her. "Tastes like scotch, but even better."

"Like what?" Qrow asked, confused.

She smiled ruefully. "I guess you have no idea where Scotland even is, do you?"

"Not a damn clue."

"It's a long story, but it's the birthplace of some of the best booze in the world," Rose answered. She poured herself another glass.

"You know, if Raven were here, we could have the whole crew back together," Qrow mused, shooting his own glass.

"Bitch," Rose spat.

Qrow nodded. "You know, I won't argue with that. My sister is a bitch. You remember why?"

"Nope. Just that I don't like her." _And when I think about Alex, I feel like her._ "They told me she was Yang's biological mom."

"That's right. Ran off the day Yang was born. Never seen or heard from since," Qrow confirmed. "But I'm gonna be honest, I wasn't too happy with my sister long before that."

"Jesus."

"What?"

"Terran colloquialism, religious origin, complex history," she explained dismissively.

"Whatever." Qrow paused, then asked, "Have you talked to them at all?"

"Not as much as I should have," Rose admitted. "I'm just worried that I'm gonna fuck it all up somehow. I've been dead to them for a long time. A lot of wounds to rip open. And I don't know if I'm the same person who left ten years ago."

"Eh, you'll do fine. They just want their mom back. They know you're all screwed up and they want to be there for you as much as you want to be there for them."

"I hope so." She poured another shot and threw it back. "Damn, that's good."

"It's bothering the shit out of you, Summer," Qrow insisted.

"What makes you say that?" Rose asked defensively. She began pouring another shot.

"You may not have the slightest clue who I am, but we were on a team for years, remember?" There was more to it than that, but Ozpin had told him very specifically to avoid the subject. The old man would broach it when the time was right.

"Okay, I'm not gonna lie. You're right." She took a deep breath. "It's Tai that worries me. Mostly."

"What about him?"

"I've been gone for ten years. Dead. That's a long time to be gone," Rose mused, pouring herself another drink. "I can tell he didn't take that well, but the last thing I want to do is make things worse instead of better. What if I'm not the same Rose that left ten years ago? What if he's not the same Tai? What if the Tai in my head isn't who he really is or the Rose in his head isn't who I ever was? How am I supposed to unfuck the most fucked-up family in the history of two worlds?"

"This is the part where I say I've been there, and you should do something or other. But, I don't think anyone's been there, not the least me," Qrow answered, standing up. "Trust your gut, I guess. Do what feels right. Don't overcomplicate things. You've got me."

"Well, thanks for trying." Rose thought about calling Qrow out on leaving, but she realized he really did have no idea what to do. She raised her glass and shot it down. "And thanks for the booze. It's good seeing you again."

Qrow nodded. "Likewise. See you around."

* * *

"I don't know if I'm ever going to get used to that glow," General Ironwood said, leaning against the railing on one of Beacon's many balconies. This one, halfway up the central tower, had a good view in the direction of the portal. In fact, it was actually visible, though only the top part could be seen and it didn't look like much in the distance. "At least it's not as bright as yesterday. I don't know if that makes it better or worse."

"It _is_ quite the change," Headmaster Ozpin echoed, coming up behind him. He sipped from the mug of coffee in his hand.

The General turned to his friend. "So, what happens now?"

"We go back to normal, as normal as we can, of course," the Headmaster told him. "I have a school to run. We cannot stop for this- no, in this new era, Beacon will be more important than ever."

"And I have the Vytal Festival to concern myself with," Ironwood finished. "There are still people who would like to see the Festival fail. Maybe even some on the other side of that barrier."

"Any predictions for the Festival, General?" Ozpin asked lightly.

"Atlas will have some very strong representatives," Ironwood paused for a moment. _Your military android- gynoid- known as Penny, is public knowledge on Earth._ "A few surprises this year. What about Beacon?"

"I would be very interested to see how their time on Earth had affected teams RWBY and JNPR," Ozpin replied casually.

"You're going to enter them into the Tournament?"

"If they wish to participate."

"We have to do something about all this," Ironwood said quietly. "You know that as well as I do."

"Yes."

The General raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Ozpin explained carefully, "We must take action, yes. But until we have ascertained what action we should take, we cannot take any action. We must determine who our true enemies are before we can defeat them."

"You don't know what to do, do you?" Ironwood said, a tone of accusation in his voice. "You never thought any of this could happen."

"Even I cannot consider every possibility," Ozpin replied. "But we will get to the bottom of this. We will find who opened the portals and stop them from doing it again. After that, perhaps we may look forward to the future you believed you fought for."

* * *

On the other side of the world, across deadly seas and impenetrable mountains, another Queen plotted. She was not a queen of men, but a queen of Grimm. Though she had nothing like television or radio, she already knew of the events that had transpired and the world across the divide. She knew that any plans she might have had were now blown away in the wind. And she, too, had lost a pawn in the grand shakeup.

But unlike the humans of the world, she had no concern for politics or economics. And unlike the pitiful creatures of flesh and blood, she had all the time in the world. Mankind would watch its world crumble and burn. Not today. Perhaps not tomorrow, either.

It was inevitable, as simple as the natural order of things.

* * *

 


End file.
